“She closed her eyes. ‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘Oh, thank God!’ And suddenly her face was worried. ‘Tommy, you ain’t wanted? You didn’ bust loose?’

‘No, Ma. Parole. I got the papers here.’ He touched his breast.

She moved toward him lithely, soundlessly in her bare feet, and her face was full of wonder. Her small hand felt his arm, felt the soundness of his muscles. And then her fingers went up to his cheek as a blind man’s fingers might. And her joy was nearly like sorrow.”

–from The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck