"... Here—feel right here." She took Lennie's hand and put it on her head. "Feel right aroun' there an' see how soft it is."

You an’ me can get that little place, can’t we, George? You an’ me can go there an’ live nice, can’t we, George? Can’t we?

Coulda been in the movies, an’ had nice clothes—all them nice clothes like they wear. An’ I coulda sat in them big hotels, an’ had pitchers took of me.

"Look out, now, you’ll muss it." And then she cried angrily, "You stop it now, you’ll mess it all up." She jerked her head sideways, and Lennie’s fingers closed on her hair and hung on.

If they was a circus or a baseball game … we would of went to her … jus’ said ‘ta hell with work,’ an’ went to her. Never ast nobody’s say so.

Now maybe George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits, if he fin’s out you got killed.

"Please don’t," he begged. "Oh! Please don’t do that. George’ll be mad."

Only Lennie was in the barn, and Lennie sat in the hay beside a packing case under a manger in the end of the barn that had not been filled with hay. Lennie sat in the hay and looked at a little dead puppy that lay in front of him.

"You God damn tramp," he said viciously. "You done it, di’n’t you? I s’pose you’re glad. Ever’body knowed you’d mess things up. ..."

I like to pet nice things. Once at a fair I seen some of them long–hair rabbits. An’ they was nice, you bet. Sometimes I’ve even pet mice, but not when I could get nothing better.