silver light

“See dat silver light? Make me sad, someway.

Gloomy, mon. What de old people calls de Mouth of de Night. Cause de night hungry, mon.”

—Peter Matthiessen, from Far Tortuga, 1975.

watch for de sundog

“. . . a sundog—gale-wind bird, some of de old people calls it—cause it a sign dat a hurricane is approachin. What? Well, sundog is a little color, little piece of cloud look more like a rainbow, on one side of de sun or de other. You don’t see it cept when de sun is going down and at de time of de sunrise. From July on, mostly August, September, October, you must watch for de sundog, in de mornin and in de evenin. By dat you can always tell in what direction dat hurricane is travellin. In days gone by, before dere was any wireless and all to tell’m things, de people used to use de gale-wind bird as a sign dat bad times was ahead.”

—Peter Matthiessen, from Far Tortuga, 1975.

more blue than you can imagine

“The spring flowers in a wet year were unbelievable. The whole valley floor, and the foothills too, would be carpeted with lupins and poppies. Once a woman told me that colored flowers would seem more bright if you added a few white flowers to give the colors definition. Every petal of blue lupin is edged with white, so that a field of lupins is more blue than you can imagine. And mixed with these were splashes of California poppies. These too are of a burning color—not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

frantic, beseeching eyes

“As he lay in the darkness after the light was out he saw the green circle left in his eyes by the candle flame, and in its whirling, pulsing frame he saw the frantic, beseeching eyes of James Grew. He didn’t go back to sleep for a long time.”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

coat after coat of whitewash

“The old thick walls sucked in coat after coat of whitewash made with lime in salt water, which, as it dried, seemed to have a luminosity of its own.”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

A cheerful brown

“Liza poured thick batter from a pitcher onto a soapstone griddle. The hot cakes rose like little hassocks, and small volcanos formed and erupted on them until they were ready to be turned. A cheerful brown, they were, with tracings of darker brown. And the kitchen was full of the good sweet smell of them.”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

blackguarding the kettle

“‘Hear now the pot blackguarding the kettle.’. . .”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

The afternoon was golden

“The two men rode slowly back toward the Trask house. The afternoon was golden, for the yellow dust in the sky gilded the light.”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

all the colors in the world

“‘I want to open a bookstore in Chinatown in San Francisco. I would live in the back, and my days would be full of discussions and arguments. I would like to have in stock some of those dragon-carved blocks of ink from the dynasty of Sung. The boxes are worm-bored, and that ink is made from fir smoke and a glue that comes only from wild asses’ skin. When you paint with that ink it may physically be black but it suggests to your eye and persuades your seeing that it is all the colors in the world.’”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.

the rose of No Man’s Land

“‘In the war’s red curse stands the Red Cross nurse. She’s the rose of No Man’s Land.’. . .”

—John Steinbeck, from East of Eden, 1952.