
Han er bedre, når han skriver om at spise vandmelon:
I know how a prize watermelon looks when it is sunning its fat rotundity among pumpkin-vines and "simblins"; I know how to tell when it is ripe without "plugging" it; I know how inviting it looks when it is cooling itself in a tub of water under the bed, waiting; I know how it looks when it lies on the table in the sheltered great floor-space between house and kitchen, and the children gathered for the sacrifice and their mouths watering; I know the crackling sound it makes when the carving-knife enters its end, and I can see the split fly along in front of the blade as the knife cleaves its way to the other end; I can see its halves fall apart and display the rich red meat and the black seeds, and the heart standing up, a luxury fit for the elect; I know how a boy looks, behind a yard-long slice of that melon, and I know how he feels; for I have been there. I know the taste of the watermelon which has been honestly come by, and I know the taste of the watermelon which has been acquired by art. Both taste good, but the experienced know which tastes best.
(fra kapitel 13, min fremhævning)
Det mest hjerteskærende er, da hans ene datter dør, og han giver sig til at beskrive hende: dengang hun fik alle børnene til at opføre Prinsen og tiggerdrengen for forældrene og naboerne, hendes indtagende, idiosynkratiske stavning (som han foretrækker frem for retstavning, fordi det passer til hende), udtalelser hun er kommet med, som han og hans kone har skrevet ned i en bog med sjove ting, børnene siger.
Mark Twain: Autobiography, Vol. I & II – fås på dit lokale folkebibliotek.
