You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.… Continue reading Ernest Hemingway
I’m full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry. — Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories. (Scribner; Classic edition, July 6, 1999) Originally published 1938.
God knows I didn’t mean to fall in love with her. — , A Farewell To Arms. (Arrow Books Ltd August 18, 1994) Originally published 1929.
You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. — Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (Scribner, 1926)
In the old days he would not have worried, but the fighting part of him was tired now, along with the other part, and he was alone in all of this now and he lay on the big, wide, old bed and could neither read nor sleep. — Ernest Hemingway, To Have and Have Not.… Continue reading Ernest Hemingway
Writing. It is like no other light. A very clear and hollow light. — Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to Bernard Berenson, Selected Letters: 1917-1961 (Scribner, 2003)
My father was a deeply sentimental man. And like all sentimental men, he was also very cruel. — Ernest Hemingway