Irony

“Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella. Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smart guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”

He reached in his side pocket and brought out Carlson’s Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Lennie’s back.

Now what the hell ya suppose is eatin’ them two guys?

Never did seem right to me. S’pose Curley jumps a big guy an’ licks him. Ever’body says what a game guy Curley is. And s’pose he does the same thing and gets licked. Then ever’body says the big guy oughtta pick somebody his own size, and maybe they gang up on the big guy. Never did seem right to me. Seems like Curley ain’t givin’ nobody a chance.

"Well, jus’ forget it," said Crooks. "I didn’ mean it. Jus’ foolin’. I wouldn’ want to go no place like that."

Sat’iday night. Ever’body out doin’ som’pin’. Ever’body! An’ what am I doin’? Standin’ here talkin’ to a bunch of bindle stiffs—a nigger an’ a dum–dum and a lousy ol’ sheep—an’ likin’ it because they ain’t nobody else.

If I say something, why it’s just a nigger sayin’ it.

This is just a nigger talkin’, an’ a busted–back nigger. So it don’t mean nothing, see? You couldn’t remember it anyways.

"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."