Dialect and Vernacular

"I get lonely," she said. "You can talk to people, but I can’t talk to nobody but Curley. Else he gets mad. How’d you like not to talk to anybody?"

"I don’t want ta hurt you," he said, "but George’ll be mad if you yell." When she didn’t answer nor move he bent closely over her.

"... I coulda made somethin' of myself." She said darkly, "Maybe I will yet."

"... 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.

Jesus Christ, Lennie! You can’t remember nothing that happens, but you remember ever’ word I say.

Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from ’em.