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Actually If A Writer Needs A Dictionary He Should Not Write. He Should Have Read The Dictionary At Least Three Times From Beginning To End And Then Have Loaned It To Someone Who Needs It. There Are Only Certain Words Which Are Valid And Similes (bring Me My Dictionary) Are Like Defective Ammunition (the Lowest Thing I Can Think Of At This Time).

-Ernest Hemingway

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Actually If A Writer

Ernest Hemingway

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Actually If A Writer Needs A Dictionary He Should Not Write. He Should Have Read The Dictionary At Least Three Times From Beginning To End And Then Have Loaned It To Someone Who Needs It. There Are Only Certain Words Which Are Valid And Similes (bring Me My Dictionary) Are Like Defective Ammunition (the Lowest Thing I Can Think Of At This Time).

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Today Is Only One Day In All The Days That Will Ever Be.

Pound's Crazy. All Poets Are.... They Have To Be. You Don't Put A Poet Like Pound In The Loony Bin.

French Is The Language Of Diplomacy. Spanish Is The Language Of Bureaucracy.

His Talent Was As Natural As The Pattern That Was Made By The Dust On A Butterfly's Wings. At One Time He Understood It No More Than The Butterfly Did And He Did Not Know When It Was Brushed Or Marred.

My Big Fish Must Be Somewhere.

Writing, At Its Best, Is A Lonely Life.

He Was Just A Coward And That Was The Worst Luck Any Many Could Have.

The Whiskey Warmed His Tongue And The Back Of His Throat, But It Did Not Change His Ideas Any, And Suddenly, Looking At Himself In The Mirror Behind The Bar, He Knew That Drinking Was Never Going To Do Any Good To Him Now. Whatever He Had Now He Had, And It Was From Now On, And If He Drank Himself Unconscious When He Woke Up It Would Be There.

You're Beautiful, Like A May Fly.

You Re Beautiful

Mice: What Is The Best Early Training For A Writer? Y.c.: An Unhappy Childhood.

Unhappy Childhood

Now A Writer Can Make Himself A Nice Career While He Is Alive By Espousing A Political Cause, Working For It, Making A Profession Of Believing In It, And If It Wins He Will Be Very Well Placed. All Politics Is A Matter Of Working Hard Without Reward, Or With A Living Wage For A Time, In The Hope Of Booty Later. A Man Can Be A Fascist Or A Communist And If His Outfit Gets In He Can Get To Be An Ambassador Or Have A Million Copies Of His Books Printed By The Government Or Any Of The Other Rewards The Boys Dream About.

You're Awfully Dark, Brother," He Said. "you Don't Know How Dark.

We Have Very Primitive Emotions,” He Said . “it's Impossible Not To Be Competitive. Spoils Everything, Though.

Now I Am Depressed Myself,' I Said. 'that's Why I Never Think About These Things. I Never Think And Yet When I Begin To Talk I Say The Things I Have Found Out In My Mind Without Thinking.

Cowards Die A Thousand Deaths, But The Brave Only Die Once.

Oh, Darling, I've Been So Miserable.

By Then I Knew That Everything Good And Bad Left An Emptiness When It Stopped. But If It Was Bad, The Emptiness Filled Up By Itself. If It Was Good You Could Only Fill It By Finding Something Better.

Practice Any Faith You Wish. Got A Ball Field Up The Island Where You Can Practice. I'll Give The Deity A Fast One High And Inside If He Crowds The Plate.

You Cannot Stop Trusting People In Life But I Have Learned To Be A Little Bit Careful. The Way To Make People Trust-worthy Is To Trust Them.

This Was A Big Storm And He Might As Well Enjoy It. It Was Ruining Everything, But You Might As Well Enjoy It

My Father Was A Deeply Sentimental Man. And Like All Sentimental Men, He Was Also Very Cruel.

Bullfighting Is The Only Art In Which The Artist Is In Danger Of Death And In Which The Degree Of Brilliance In The Performance Is Left To The Fighter's Honor.

I Like To Listen. I Have Learned A Great Deal From Listening Carefully. Most People Never Listen.

He Had Loved Too Much, Demanded Too Much, And He Wore It All Out.

A Girl Came In The Cafe And Sat By Herself At A Table Near The Window. She Was Very Pretty With A Face Fresh As A Newly Minted Coin If They Minted Coins In Smooth Flesh With Rain-freshened Skin, And Her Hair Black As A Crow's Wing And Cut Sharply And Diagonally Across Her Cheek.

He Had Always Known What I Did Not Know And What, When I Learned It, I Was Always Able To Forget. But I Did Not Know That Then, Although I Learned It Later.

Experiencing Differences Is Crucial To The Human Condition. Especially When That Difference Is Over The Head, Blower Powder.

Human Condition

A Serious Writer Is Not To Be Confounded With A Solemn Writer. A Serious Writer May Be A Hawk Or A Buzzard Or Even A Popinjay, But A Solemn Writer Is Always A Bloody Owl.

You're Not A Moron. You're Only A Case Of Arrested Development.

I Know The Night Is Not The Same As The Day: That All Things Are Different, That The Things Of The Night Cannot Be Explained In The Day, Because They Do Not Then Exist, And The Night Can Be A Dreadful Time For Lonely People Once Their Loneliness Has Started.

No Animal Has More Liberty Than The Cat, But It Buries The Mess It Makes. The Cat Is The Best Anarchist.

If The Reader Prefers, This Book May Be Regarded As Fiction. But There Is Always The Chance That Such A Book Of Fiction May Throw Some Light On What Has Been Written As Fact.

Night Life Is When Everybody Says What The Hell And You Do Not Remember Who Paid The Bill.

I Might Say That What Amateurs Call A Style Is Usually Only The Unavoidable Awkwardnesses In First Trying To Make Something That Has Not Heretofore Been Made. Almost No New Classics Resemble Other Previous Classics. At First People See Only The Awkwardness. Then They Are Not So Perceptible. When They Show So Very Awkwardly People Think These Awkwardnesses Are The Style And Many Copy Them. This Is Regrettable.

I Did Not Care What It Was All About. All I Wanted To Know Was How To Live In It. Maybe If You Found Out How To Live In It You Learned From That What Is Was All About.

People Fall In Love, But Have To Climb Out.

Falling In Love

Perhaps I Should Not Have Been A Fisherman, He Thought. But That Was The Thing That I Was Born For.

To Hell With The Church When It Becomes A State And The Hell With The State When It Becomes A Church.

Why Should Anybody Be Interested In Some Old Man Who Was A Failure?

[robert] Capa: He Was A Good Friend And A Great And Very Brave Photographer. It Is Bad Luck For Everybody That The Percentages Caught Up With Him. It Is Especially Bad For Capa. (on Capa's Death In Vietnam, May, 27, 1954)

You See I'm Trying In All My Stories To Get The Feeling Of The Actual Life Across, Not Just To Depict Life, Or Criticize It, But To Actually Make It Alive.

Your Blood Coagulates Beautifully.

There Is Nothing Noble In Being Superior To Your Fellow Men. True Nobility Lies In Being Superior To Your Former Self.

Always Quit For The Day When You Know What You Want To Do Next.

And We Could Have All This,' She Said. 'and We Could Have Everything And Every Day We Make It More Impossible.' 'what Did You Say?' 'i Said We Could Have Everything.' 'we Can Have Everything.' 'no, We Can't.' 'we Can Have The Whole World.' 'no, We Can't.' 'we Can Go Everywhere.' 'no, We Can't. It Isn't Ours Anymore.' 'it's Ours.' 'no, It Isn't. And Once They Take It Away, You Never Get It Back.

A Man Does Not Exist Until He Is Drunk.

You Know I Don't Love Any One But You. You Shouldn't Mind Because Some One Else Loved Me.

Farewell To Arms

There Isn't Any Me. I'm You. Don't Make Up A Separate Me.

Farewell To Arms

All Modern American Literature Comes From One Book By Mark Twain Called Huckleberry Finn.

He's A Great Writer. If I Didn't Think So I Wouldn't Have Tried To Kill Him... I Was The Champ And When I Read His Stuff I Knew He Had Something. So I Dropped A Heavy Glass Skylight On His Head At A Drinking Party. But You Can't Kill The Guy. He's Not Human.

Everybody Has Strange Things That Mean Things To Them. You Couldn't Help It.

Summer Is A Discouraging Time To Work - You Don't Feel Death Coming On The Way It Does In The Fall When The Boys Really Put Pen To Paper.

All I Know Is That Young Boys Sleep Late And Hard.

A Cat Has Absolute Emotional Honesty: Human Beings, For One Reason Or Another, May Hide Their Feelings, But A Cat Does Not.

All Cowardice Comes From Not Truly Loving, Or At Least, Not Loving Well.

I Am One Of Those Who Like To Stay Late At The Cafe," The Older Waiter Said. "with All Those Who Do Not Want To Go To Bed. With All Those Who Need A Light For The Night." "i Want To Go Home And Into Bed." "we Are Of Two Different Kinds," The Older Waiter Said. He Was Now Dressed To Go Home. "it Is Not Only A Question Of Youth And Confidence Although Those Things Are Very Beautiful. Each Night. I Am Reluctant To Close Up Because There May Be Someone Who Needs The Cafe.

Some People Show Evil As A Great Racehorse Shows Breeding. They Have The Dignity Of A Hard Chancre.

He Was Violating The Second Rule Of The Two Rules For Getting On Well With People That Speak Spanish; Give The Men Tobacco And Leave The Women Alone

Happiness Is Often Presented As Being Very Dull But, He Thought, Lying Awake, That Is Because Dull People Are Sometimes Very Happy And Intelligent People Can And Do Go Around Making Themselves And Everyone Else Miserable. He Had Never Found Happiness Dull. It Always Seemed More Exciting Than Any Other Thing And Capable Of As Great Intensity As Sorrow To Those People Who Were Capable Of Having It.

Found Happiness

If The Others Heard Me Talking Out Loud They Would Think That I Am Crazy. But Since I Am Not, I Do Not Care.

Cheer Up,' I Said. 'all Countries Look Just Like The Moving Pictures.

Nobody Climbs On Skis Now And Almost Everybody Breaks Their Legs But Maybe It Is Easier In The End To Break Your Legs Than To Break Your Heart Although They Say That Everything Breaks Now And That Sometimes, Afterwards, Many Are Stronger At The Broken Places.

So Far, About Morals, I Know Only That What Is Moral Is What You Feel Good After And What Is Immoral Is What You Feel Bad After.

No Horse Named Morbid Ever Won A Race.

Each Day Of Not Writing, Of Comfort, Of Being That Which He Despised, Dulled His Ability And Softened His Will To Work So That, Finally, He Did No Work At All.

You Never Kill Any One That You Want To Kill In A War, He Said To Himself.

People Who Write Fiction, If They Had Not Taken It Up, Might Have Become Very Successful Liars.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Unbought Stuffed Dogs.

Every Man's Life Ends The Same Way. It Is Only The Details Of How He Lived And How He Died That Distinguish One Man From Another.

Anglers Have A Way Of Romanticizing Their Battles With Fish And Of Forgetting That The Fish Has A Hook In His Mouth, His Gullet, Or His Belly And That His Gameness Is Really An Extreme Of Panic In Which He Runs, Leaps, And Pulls To Get Away Until He Dies. It Would Seem To Be Enough Advantage To The Angler That The Fish Has The Hook In His Mouth Rather Than The Angler.

Personal Columnists Are Jackals And No Jackal Has Been Known To Live On Grass Once He Had Learned About Meat - No Matter Who Killed The Meat For Him.

Oh, Darling, You Will Be Good To Me, Won’t You? Because We’re Going To Have A Strange Life.

Intelligence Is So Damn Rare And The People Who Have It Often Have Such A Bad Time With It That They Get Bitter Or Propagandistic And Then It's Not Much Use.

There Is Seven-eights Of It Under Water For Every Part That Shows. Anything You Know You Can Eliminate And It Only Strengthens Your Iceberg. It Is The Part That Doesn't Show. If A Writer Omits Something Because He Does Not Know It Then There Is A Hole In The Story.

Survival, With Honor, That Outmoded And All-important Word, Is As Difficult As Ever And As All-important To A Writer. Those Who Do Not Last Are Always More Beloved Since No One Has To See Them In Their Long, Dull, Unrelenting, No-quarter-given-and-no-quarter-received, Fights That They Make To Do Something As They Believe It Should Be Done Before They Die. Those Who Die Or Quit Early And Easy And With Every Good Reason Are Preferred Because They Are Understandable And Human. Failure And Well-disguised Cowardice Are More Human And More Beloved.

No Writer Who Knows The Great Writers Who Did Not Receive The Prize Can Accept It Other Than With Humility. There Is No Need To List These Writers. Everyone Here May Make His Own List According To His Knowledge And His Conscience.

You Ought To Be Ironical The Minute You Get Out Of Bed. You Ought To Wake Up With Your Mouth Full Of Pity.

How Do You Tell A Valuable French Book?' 'first There Are The Pictures. Then It Is A Question Of The Quality Of The Pictures. Then It Is The Binding. If A Book Is Good, The Owner Will Have It Bound Properly. All Books In English Are Bound, But Bound Badly. There Is No Way Of Judging Them.

When I Am Working On A Book Or A Story I Write Every Morning As Soon After First Light As Possible. There Is No One To Disturb You And It Is Cool Or Cold And You Come To Your Work And Warm As You Write.

I Don't Feel Any Way,' The Girl Said. 'i Just Know Things.

I Love You And I Always Will And I Am Sorry. What A Useless Word.

You Are Killing Me, Fish, The Old Man Thought. But You Have A Right To. Never Have I Seen A Greater, Or More Beautiful, Or A Calmer Or More Noble Thing Than You, Brother.

Oh, Now, Now, Now, The Only Now, And Above All Now, And There Is No Other Now But Thou Now And Now Is Thy Prophet.

Why Must All Of The Operations In Life Be Performed Without An Anesthetic?

Anyone Can Be A Fisherman In May.

I Am Opposed To Writing About The Private Lives Of Living Authors And Psychoanalyzing Them While They Are Alive. Criticism Is Getting All Mixed Up With A Combination Of The Junior Fbi-men, Discards From Freud And Jung And A Sort Of Columnist Peep-hole And Missing Laundry List School. ... Every Young English Professor Sees Gold In Them Dirty Sheets Now. Imagine What They Can Do With The Soiled Sheets Of Four Legal Beds By The Same Writer And You Can See Why Their Tongues Are Slavering.

The Sea Is The Same As It Has Been Since Before Men Ever Went On It In Boats.

My Only Regret In Life Is That I Did Not Drink More Wine.

The World Is A Fine Place And Worth The Fighting For And I Hate Very Much To Leave It.

And The Ones Who Would Not Make War? Can They Stop It?

No Subject Is Terrible If The Story Is True, If The Prose Is Clean And Honest, And If It Affirms Courage And Grace Under Pressure.

I'm Not Unfaithful, Darling. I've Plenty Of Faults But I'm Very Faithful. You'll Be Sick Of Me I'll Be So Faithful.

How Did We Go Bankrupt? Two Ways. Slowly, And Then All Of A Sudden.

No, That Is The Great Fallacy: The Wisdom Of Old Men. They Do Not Grow Wise. They Grow Careful.

Never Mistake Motion For Action.

I Suppose If A Man Has Something Once, Always Something Of It Remains.

Always Do Sober What You Said You'd Do Drunk. That Will Teach You To Keep Your Mouth Shut.

After Writing A Story I Was Always Empty And Both Sad And Happy, As Though I Had Made Love.

All Things Truly Wicked Start From Innocence.

When You Have Shot One Bird Flying You Have Shot All Birds Flying. They Are All Different And They Fly In Different Ways But The Sensation Is The Same And The Last One Is As Good As The First.

Being Against Evil Doesn't Make You Good. Tonight I Was Against It And Then I Was Evil Myself. I Could Feel It Coming Just Like A Tide... I Just Want To Destroy Them. But When You Start Taking Pleasure In It You Are Awfully Close To The Thing You're Fighting.

The One Who Is Doing His Work And Getting Satisfaction From It Is Not The One The Poverty Bothers.

Most People Never Listen.

To Be Successful In Writing, Use Short Sentences.

I'm Always Reading Books-as Many As There Are. I Ration Myself On Them So That I'll Always Be In Supply.

The Old Man Looked At Him With His Sun-burned, Confident Loving Eyes.

As You Get Older It Is Harder To Have Heroes, But It Is Sort Of Necessary.

I Had Gone To No Such Place But To The Smoke Of Cafes And Nights When The Room Whirled And You Needed To Look At The Wall To Make It Stop, Nights In Bed, Drunk, When You Knew That That Was All There Was, And The Strange Excitement Of Waking And Not Knowing Who It Was With You, And The World All Unreal In The Dark And So Exciting That You Must Resume Again Unknowing And Not Caring In The Night, Sure That This Was All And All And All And Not Caring.

The Fools Think I Am Writing Algebra But What I Am Really Writing Is Geometry.

Something, Or Something Awful Or Something Wonderful Was Certain To Happen On Every Day In This Part Of Africa.

But Paris Was A Very Old City And We Were Young And Nothing Was Simple There, Not Even Poverty, Nor Sudden Money, Nor The Moonlight, Nor Right And Wrong Nor The Breathing Of Someone Who Lay Beside You In The Moonlight.

Would You Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Stop Talking?

Got Tight Last Night On Absinthe And Did Knife Tricks. Great Success Shooting The Knife Underhand Into The Piano. The Woodworms Are So Bad And Eat Hell Out Of All The Furniture That You Can Always Claim The Woodworms Did It.

Cowardice, As Distinguished From Panic, Is Almost Always Simply A Lack Of Ability To Suspend The Functioning Of The Imagination. Learning To Suspend Your Imagination And Live Completely In The Very Second Of The Present With No Before And No After Is The Greatest Gift A Soldier Can Acquire.

Everything About Him Was Old Except His Eyes And They Were The Same Color As The Sea And Were Cheerful And Undefeated.

When I Saw My Wife Again Standing By The Tracks As The Train Came In By The Piled Logs At The Station, I Wished I Had Died Before I Had Ever Loved Anyone But Her.

Paris Is So Very Beautiful That It Satisfies Something In You That Is Always Hungry In America.

Some Writers Are Only Born To Help Another Writer Write One Sentence.

And Another Thing. Don’t Ever Kid Yourself About Loving Some One. It Is Just That Most People Are Not Lucky Enough Ever To Have It. You Never Had It Before And Now You Have It. What You Have With Maria, Whether It Lasts Just Through Today And A Part Of Tomorrow, Or Whether It Lasts For A Long Life Is The Most Important Thing That Can Happen To A Human Being. There Will Always Be People Who Say It Does Not Exist Because They Cannot Have It. But I Tell You It Is True And That You Have It And That You Are Lucky Even If You Die Tomorrow.

Eschew The Monumental. Shun The Epic. All The Guys Who Can Paint Great Big Pictures Can Paint Great Small Ones.

Once Writing Has Become Your Major Vice And Greatest Pleasure Only Death Can Stop It. Financial Security Then Is A Great Help As It Keeps You From Worrying.

Let Those Who Want To Save The World If You Can Get To See It Clear And As A Whole. Then Any Part You Make Will Represent The Whole If It's Made Truly. The Thing To Do Is Work And Learn To Make It.

I’m Trying In All My Stories To Get The Feeling Of The Actual Life Across—not To Just Depict Life—or Criticize It—but To Actually Make It Alive. So That When You Have Read Something By Me You Actually Experience The Thing. You Can’t Do This Without Putting In The Bad And The Ugly As Well As What Is Beautiful. Because If It Is All Beautiful You Can’t Believe In It. Things Aren’t That Way.

You Can Write Any Time People Will Leave You Alone And Not Interrupt You. Or Rather You Can If You Will Be Ruthless Enough About It. But The Best Writing Is Certainly When You Are In Love. If It Is All The Same To You I Would Rather Not Expound On That.

I Love Sleep. My Life Has The Tendency To Fall Apart When I'm Awake, You Know?

I Hate A Cramp, He Thought. It Is A Treachery Of One's Own Body.

Those Who Say They Want To Be Writers, And Aren’t Writing, Don’t.

It Is A Hell Of A Thing To Be Hungry In Your Own House.

I Had Seen Nothing Sacred, And The Things That Were Glorious Had No Glory And The Sacrifices Were Like The Stockyards At Chicago If Nothing Was Done With The Meat Except To Bury It.

No Weapon Has Ever Settled A Moral Problem. It Can Impose A Solution But It Cannot Guarantee It To Be A Just One. You Can Wipe Out Your Opponents. But If You Do It Unjustly You Become Eligible For Being Wiped Out Yourself.

Go All The Way With It. Do Not Back Off. For Once, Go All The Goddamn Way With What Matters.

I Am Drunk, Seest Thou? When I Am Not Drunk I Do Not Talk. You Have Never Heard Me Talk Much. But An Intelligent Man Is Sometimes Forced To Be Drunk To Spend His Time With Fools.

Since I Had Started To Break Down All My Writing And Get Rid Of All Facility And Try To Make Instead Of Describe, Writing Had Been Wonderful To Do.

All The Critics Who Could Not Make Their Reputations By Discovering You Are Hoping To Make Them By Predicting Hopefully Your Approaching Impotence, Failure And General Drying Up Of Natural Juices. Not A One Will Wish You Luck Or Hope That You Will Keep On Writing Unless You Have Political Affiliations In Which Case These Will Rally Around And Speak Of You And Homer, Balzac, Zola And Link Steffens.

I've Been Wondering About Dostoyevsky. How Can A Man Write So Badly, So Unbelievably Badly, And Make You Feel So Deeply?

The Brave Dies Perhaps Two Thousand Deaths If He's Intelligent. He Simply Doesn't Mention Them.

Drinking Wine Was Not A Snobbism Nor A Sign Of Sophistication Nor A Cult; It Was As Natural As Eating And To Me As Necessary.

The World Was Not Wheeling Anymore. It Was Just Very Clear And Bright And Inclined To Blur At The Edges.

But Did Thee Feel The Earth Move?

You Make Something From Things That Have Happened And From Things That Exist And From All Things That You Know And All Those You Cannot Know, And You Make Something Through Your Invention That Is Truer Than Anything True And Alive, And If You Make It Well Enough, You Give It Immortality.

There Are Many Who Do Not Know They Are Fascists But Will Find It Out When The Time Comes.

The Thing Is To Become A Master And In Your Old Age To Acquire The Courage To Do What Children Did When They Knew Nothing.

They Wrote In The Old Days That It Is Sweet And Fitting To Die For One's Country. But In Modern War, There Is Nothing Sweet Nor Fitting In Your Dying. You Will Die Like A Dog For No Good Reason.

It Is One Thing To Be In The Proximity Of Death, To Know More Or Less What She Is, And It Is Quite Another Thing To Seek Her.

If A Writer Stops Observing He Is Finished. Experience Is Communicated By Small Details Intimately Observed.

Once We Have A War There Is Only One Thing To Do. It Must Be Won. For Defeat Brings Worse Things Than Any That Can Ever Happen In War.

No Well-run Yacht Basin In Southern Waters Is Complete Without At Least Two Sun-burned, Salt Bleached-headed Esthonians Who Are Waiting For A Check From Their Last Article. When It Comes They Will Set Sail To Another Yacht Basin And Write Another Saga.

The Way To Learn Whether A Person Is Trustworthy Is To Trust Him.

Never Confuse Motions With Action.

Wine Is The Most Civilized Thing In The World.

All The Contact I Have Had With Politics Has Left Me Feeling As Though I Had Been Drinking Out Of Spitoons.

Don't You Like To Write Letters? I Do Because It's Such A Swell Way To Keep From Working And Yet Feel You've Done Something.

For A Long Time Now I Have Tried Simply To Write The Best I Can. Sometimes I Have Good Luck And Write Better Than I Can.

A Cat Has Absolute Honesty.

Going To Another Country Doesn’t Make Any Difference. I’ve Tried All That. You Can’t Get Away From Yourself By Moving From One Place To Another. There’s Nothing To That.

We Would Be Together And Have Our Books And At Night Be Warm In Bed Together With The Windows Open And The Stars Bright.

I Never Liked To Hunt, You Know. There Was Always The Danger Of Having A Horse Fall On You.

The Further You Go In Writing The More Alone You Are.

Because Fascism Is A Lie, It Is Condemned To Literary Sterility. And When It Is Past, It Will Have No History, Except The Bloody History Of Murder.

Live The Full Life Of The Mind, Exhilarated By New Ideas, Intoxicated By The Romance Of The Unusual.

The People That I Liked And Had Not Met Went To The Big Cafes Because They Were Lost In Them And No One Noticed Them And They Could Be Alone In Them And Be Together.

When I Am Working On A Book Or A Story I Write Every Morning As Soon After First Light As Possible. There Is No One To Disturb You And Is It Is Cool And You Come To Your Work And Warm As You Write. You Read What You Have Written And, As You Always Stop When You Know What Is Going To Happen Next, You Go On From There. You Write Until You Come To A Place Where You Still Have Your Juice And Know What Will Happen Next And You Stop And Try To Live Through Until The Next Day When You Hit Again.

I Did Not Understand Them But They Did Not Have Any Mystery, And When I Understood Them They Meant Nothing To Me. I Was Sorry About This But There Was Nothing I Could Do About It.

Auto Racing, Bull Fighting, And Mountain Climbing Are The Only Real Sports... All The Others Are Games.

When You Work Hard All Day With Your Head And Know You Must Work Again The Next Day What Else Can Change Your Ideas And Make Them Run On A Different Plane Like Whisky?

Good Writing Is Good Conversation, Only More So.

Good Conversation

You Can't Get Away From Yourself By Moving From One Place To Another.

Lost Generation

Worry A Little Bit Every Day And In A Lifetime You Will Lose A Couple Of Years. If Something Is Wrong, Fix It If You Can. But Train Yourself Not To Worry: Worry Never Fixes Anything.

All Our Words From Loose Using Have Lost Their Edge.

Do Not Think About Sin, He Thought. There Are Enough Problems Now Without Sin. Also I Have No Understanding Of It.

Thou Wilt Go Now, Rabbit. But I Go With Thee. As Long As There Is One Of Us There Is Both Of Us.

There Is No Friend As Loyal As A Book.

But Paris Was A Very Old City And We Were Young And Nothing Was Simple There.

What Is The Definition Of Guts? Grace Under Pressure.

A Continent Ages Quickly Once We Come. The Natives Live In Harmony With It. But The Foreigner Destroys, Cuts Down The Trees, Drains The Water, So That The Water Supply Is Altered, And In A Short Time The Soil, Once The Sod Is Turned Under, Is Cropped Out And, Next, It Starts To Blow Away As It Has Blown Away In Every Old Country And As I Had Seen It Start To Blow In Canada. The Earth Gets Tired Of Being Exploited.

But Man Is Not Made For Defeat. A Man Can Be Destroyed But Not Defeated.

There Are Some Things Which Cannot Be Learned Quickly, And Time, Which Is All We Have, Must Be Paid Heavily For Their Acquiring. They Are The Very Simplest Things And Because It Takes A Man's Life To Know Them The Little That Each Man Gets From Life Is Very Costly And The Only Heritage He Has To Leave.

Let’s Not Talk About How I Am. It’s A Subject I Know Too Much About To Want To Think About Anymore.

Poor Faulkner. Does He Really Think Big Emotions Come From Big Words?

The Brown Blotches Of The Benevolent Skin Cancer The Sun Brings From Its Reflection On The Tropic Sea Were On His Cheeks. The Blotches Ran Well Down The Sides Of His Face And His Hands Had The Deep-creased Scars From Handling Heavy Fish On The Cords. But None Of These Scars Were Fresh. They Were As Old As Erosions In A Fishless Desert.

Ronda Is The Place Where To Go, If You Are Planning To Travel To Spain For A Honeymoon Or For Being With A Girlfriend. The Whole City And Its Surroundings Are A Romantic Set. ... Nice Promenades, Good Wine, Excellent Food, Nothing To Do.

I Was Young And Not Gloomy And There Were Always Strange And Comic Things That Happened In The Worst Time.

I Mistrust All Frank And Simple People, Especially When Their Stories Hold Together

The Further You Go In Writing The More Alone You Are. Most Of Your Best And Oldest Friends Die. Others Move Away. You Do Not See Them Except Rarely, But You Write And Have Much The Same Contact With Them As Though You Were Together At The Café In The Old Days. You Exchange Comic, Sometimes Cheerfully Obscene And Irresponsible Letters, And It Is Almost As Good As Talking. But You Are More Alone Because That Is How You Must Work And The Time To Work Is Shorter All The Time And If You Waste It You Feel You Have Committed A Sin For Which There Is No Forgiveness.

The World Breaks Everyone Or Nearly Everyone, Of Their Childish Illusions, Assumptions And Wishes, Often Painfully And Afterwards Due To The Personal Growth In Practical Experience, Insight And The Resulting Wisdom Many Are Strong At The Broken Places Just Like Mended Broken Bones Often Are, And Some People Even Have The Great Insight To Be Grateful For The Purifying Fire.

It Could Be Worse,' Passini Said Respectfully. "there Is Nothing Worse Than War." Defeat Is Worse." I Do Not Believe It," Passini Said Still Respectfully. "what Is Defeat? You Go Home.

Got Tight On Absinthe Last Night. Did Knife Tricks.

In Going Where You Have To Go, And Doing What You Have To Do, And Seeing What You Have To See, You'll Dull And Blunt The Instrument You Write With. But I Would Rather Have It Bent And Dull And Know I Had To Put It To The Grindstone Again And Hammer It Into Shape And Put A Whetstone To It, And Know That I Had Something To Write About, Than To Have It Bright And Shining And Nothing To Say, Or Smooth And Well-oiled In The Closet, But Unused.

Home Is Where The Heart Is, Home Is Where The Fart Is. Come Let Us Fart In The Home. There Is No Art In A Fart. Still A Fart May Not Be Artless. Let Us Fart And Artless Fart In The Home.

All Stories, If Continued Far Enough, End In Death, And He Is No True-story Teller Who Would Keep That From You. Especially Do All Stories Of Monogamy End In Death, And Your Man Who Is Monogamous While He Often Lives Most Happily, Dies In The Most Lonely Fashion.

Often A Man Wishes To Be Alone And A Girl Wishes To Be Alone Too And If They Love Each Other They Are Jealous Of That In Each Other, But I Can Truly Say We Never Felt That. We Could Feel Alone When We Were Together, Alone Against The Others. But We Were Never Lonely And Never Afraid When We Were Together.

I Felt The Death Loneliness That Comes At The End Of Every Day That Is Wasted In Your Life.

There Are So Many Good Ones To Paint And If You Paint As Well As You Really Can And Keep Out Of All Other Things And Do That, It Is The True Thing.

The Parody Is The Last Refuge Of The Frustrated Writer. Parodies Are What You Write When You Are Associate Editor Of The Harvard Lampoon. The Greater The Work Of Literature, The Easier The Parody. The Step Up From Writing Parodies Is Writing On The Wall Above The Urinal.

Though There Is One Part Of Writing That Is Solid And You Do It No Harm By Talking About It, The Other Is Fragile, And If You Talk About It, The Structure Cracks And You Have Nothing.

But In The Meantime All The Life You Have Or Ever Will Have Is Today, Tonight, Tomorrow, Today, Tonight, Tomorrow, Over And Over Again (i Hope).

You've Such A Lovely Temperature.

The English Talked With Inflected Phrases. One Phrase To Mean Everything.

Now, Being In Africa, I Was Hungry For More Of It, The Changes Of The Seasons, The Rains With No Need To Travel, The Discomforts That You Paid To Make It Real, The Names Of The Trees, Of The Small Animals, And All The Birds, To Know The Language And Have Time To Be In It And To Move Slowly.

There Is Nothing To Writing. All You Do Is Sit Down At A Typewriter And Bleed.

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W. Averell Harriman

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