In those days, America was everywhere: in your eyes, in your ears, your nose, your mouth, your hair. You could smell it, taste it, brush it away with your hands - but it kept coming back. It was under your fingernails, lodged permanently between your toes, your legs, your buttcrack. Everywhere you went, you felt it. Walking down the street, you felt it. Everywhere you went, you found it. Getting off the bus, you found it: there it was! right there: in front of you: next to you and above you - always out of reach, like a dirty cloud. If you went to the store, you found it. If you went shopping, you found it. The shelves were never empty. If you went to the woods, you found it. If you went to the hills, you found it: America! the beautiful! Amber waves of grain! Purple mountains' majesty! Majestic, purple skies! filled with mountains! The haze! Once-fruited plain! Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy! The fox-trot! The twist!

– Verse 76 from the chapter called Childhood

As terrible as faking an old hand-tinted photograph was, it was perfectly alright to have your own photograph taken, preferably by daguerreotype or calotype, and have it hand-tinted. These were especially popular for gravestones. Of course, the elite could afford to have many portraits of themselves taken, but the poorer classes were usually restricted to making death portraits. It was a poor man indeed who couldn't afford to have his own hand-tinted daguerreotype or calotype death portrait prepared. That man died ashamed.

– Verse 17 from the chapter called Childhood

"'She's a domestic,' I said. He laughed his head off. 'That's right, boy: they cook and clean and take out your garbage and you'll find out the rest when you're older.' He started walking away laughing. 'Wait!' I yelled. 'What about the story?'

– Verse 60 from the chapter called Childhood

My grandmother told her own story: "We were eleven years old, my sister and I. We were traveling with other children: some younger, some older. We were - all of us - very hungry. One day, we found this old woman living on her own - actually, some young boys told us about her. They said, 'This woman has a chamber with bread and cheese. Go to her house and ask for bread. Meanwhile, we'll go and steal the food.' So we went to the woman. We told her how hungry we were; we asked for bread. She was very kind: she gave us soup - very good soup - and bread. We left very grateful for the woman's kindness, and felt sorry, since we knew that the boys had robbed her. They took half a round of cheese - white cheese: it was very good. They took all of her bread; we ate everything she had. A few days later, while passing through some other village, one of the girls with us died of typhus. During the funeral, we went to confess, but all of us kept going to the back of the line - we were scared, since the girl had died. Finally, the priest took notice, and, leading us to the sacristy, said, 'Why do you children keep going to the back?' We answered, 'Forgive us, Father, for we have sinned.' He was very surprised. 'We all share the same grave sin,' we said. 'We were hungry, and we robbed a woman of her food.' The priest said: 'You have not sinned: you did not take her food out of spite or for pleasure, but because you were hungry.' And he blessed us that very same day, the whole gang, right there in the sacristy."

– Verse 75 from the chapter called Childhood