Loneliness and Companionship

And George raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the muzzle of it close to the back of Lennie’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger.

"Because I got you an’—" "An’ I got you. We got each other, that’s what, that gives a hoot in hell about us," Lennie cried in triumph.

Guys like us got no fambly. They make a little stake an’ then they blow it in. They ain’t got nobody in the worl’ that gives a hoot in hell about ’em—

No, Lennie. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know.

Jesus Christ, somebody’d shoot you for a coyote if you was by yourself. No, you stay with me. Your Aunt Clara wouldn’t like you running off by yourself, even if she is dead.

I could get along so easy and so nice if I didn’t have you on my tail. I could live so easy and maybe have a girl.

With us it ain’t like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us.

Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no family. They don’t belong no place.

“Listen to me, you crazy bastard,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you even take a look at that bitch. I don’t care what she says and what she does. I seen ’em poison before, but I never seen no piece of jail bait worse than her. You leave her be.”

“Say—what you sellin’?” “Huh?” “I said what stake you got in this guy? You takin’ his pay away from him?”