Kino's eyes opened, and he looked first at the lightening square which was the door and then he looked at the hanging box where Coyotito slept... It was very good - Kino closed his eyes again to listen to his music. Perhaps alone he did this and perhaps all of his people did it. His people had once been great makers of songs so that everything they saw or thought or did or heard became a song...
Excerpt: pg 1. John Steinbeck, The Pearl.
