Status Updates From A hang és a téboly

The day dawned bleak and chill, a moving wall of grey light out of the
northeast which, instead of dissolving into moisture, seemed to
disintegrate into minute and venomous particles, like dust that, when
Dilsey opened the door of the cabin and emerged, needled laterally into
her flesh, precipitating not so much a moisture as a substance partaking
of the quality of thin, not quite congealed oil.

It’s a curious thing how no matter what’s wrong with you, a man’ll
tell you to have your teeth examined and a woman’ll tell you to get
married.

Prohibition’s a fine thing. Used to be they’d come in Saturday with just
one pair of shoes in the family and him wearing them, and they’d go down
to the express office and get his package; now they all go to the show
barefooted, with the merchants in the door like a row of tigers or
something in a cage, watching them pass.

Let it wash a man’s crop out of the ground year after year, and them up there in Washington spending fifty thousand dollars a day keeping an army in Nicaragua or some place.