How we cite our quotes: (Part.Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #7
Joe and I flew home to America in the same plane, and on the way he told me about Prague, and his Prague had no relation to the city I had seen and heard. It just wasn't the same place, and yet each of us was honest, neither one a liar, both pretty good observers by any standard, and we brought home two cities, two truths. For this reason I cannot commend this account as an America that you will find. So much there is to see, but our morning eyes describe a different world than do our afternoon eyes, and surely our wearied evening eyes can report only a weary evening world. (2.3.62)
Of course, John, we might also find a different America because you made a lot of what you encountered up, but sure—the larger point stands: two different people on the same trip will likely have completely different experiences. So, again, truth is relative, according to Steinbeck.
Quote #8
So it went on—a profession older than writing and one that will probably survive when the written word has disappeared. And all the sterile wonders of movies and television and radio will fail to wipe it out—a living man in communication with a living audience. (3.3.109)
While he was camping out, Steinbeck meets an actor who told him a lot about his life in the theater and "the profession." Apparently, Steinbeck thinks that his kind of art will outlast written expression, even with film and TV taking over.
Quote #9
The road surface tore viciously at my tires and made Rocinante's overloaded springs cry with anguish. What a place for a colony of troglodytes, or better, of trolls. And here's an odd thing. Just as I felt unwanted in this land, so do I feel a reluctance in writing about it. (3.4.6)
Steinbeck reflects that, because he was uncomfortable while driving through the Bad Lands (at least, at first), it's hard for him to even write about his observations from that time. Some authors gravitate toward what makes them uncomfortable (and hey, if Steinbeck's nuke references are any indication, he's perhaps one of them), but there's something about feeling unwelcome in a place that shuts down Steinbeck's writerly impulses.