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I Started Out Very Quiet And I Beat Mr. Turgenev. Then I Trained Hard And I Beat Mr. De Maupassant. I've Fought Two Draws With Mr. Stendhal, And I Think I Had An Edge In The Last One. But Nobody's Going To Get Me In Any Ring With Mr. Tolstoy Unless I'm Crazy Or I Keep Getting Better.

-Ernest Hemingway

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I Started Out Very

Ernest Hemingway

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I Started Out Very Quiet And I Beat Mr. Turgenev. Then I Trained Hard And I Beat Mr. De Maupassant. I've Fought Two Draws With Mr. Stendhal, And I Think I Had An Edge In The Last One. But Nobody's Going To Get Me In Any Ring With Mr. Tolstoy Unless I'm Crazy Or I Keep Getting Better.

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More From Ernest Hemingway

Some People, When They Hear An Echo, Think They Originated The Sound.

Only That Which Makes You Feel Bad After Doing Is Immoral.

You Know Lots Of Criticism Is Written By Characters Who Are Very Academic And Think It Is A Sign You Are Worthless If You Make Jokes Or Kid Or Even Clown. I Wouldn't Kid Our Lord If He Was On The Cross. But I Would Attempt A Joke With Him If I Ran Into Him Chasing The Money Changers Out Of The Temple.

How Simple The Writing Of Literature Would Be If It Were Only Necessary To Write In Another Way What Has Been Well Written. It Is Because We Have Had Such Great Writers In The Past That A Writer Is Driven Far Out Past Where He Can Go, Out To Where No One Can Help Him.

When Spring Came, Even The False Spring, There Were No Problems Except Where To Be Happiest.

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.

I Say That Is Wine," Brett Held Up Her Glass. "we Ought To Toast Something. 'here's To Royalty.'" "this Wine Is Too Good For Toast-drinking, My Dear. You Don't Want To Mix Emotions Up With A Wine Like That. You Lose The Taste." Brett's Glass Was Empty.

My Aim Is To Put Down On Paper What I See And What I Feel In The Best And Simplest Way.

Inspirational Life

Most People Are Heartless About Turtles Because A Turtle's Heart Will Beat For Hours After He Has Been Cut Up And Butchered. But The Old Man Thought, I Have Such A Heart Too And My Feet And Hands Are Like Theirs.

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.

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.

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. When The Cold Rains Kept On And Killed The Spring, It Was As Though A Young Person Died For No Reason.

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.

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.

Things May Not Be Immediately Discernible In What A Man Writes, And In This Sometimes He Is Fortunate; But Eventually They Are Quite Clear And By These And The Degree Of Alchemy That He Possesses He Will Endure Or Be Forgotten.

I Don’t. I Don’t Want Anybody Else To Touch You. I’m Silly. I Get Furious If They Touch You.

Farewell To Arms

Men Cannot Act Before The Camera In The Presence Of Death.

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.

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.

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

Hunger Is Good Discipline.

Good Discipline

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.

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.

When I Have An Idea, I Turn Down The Flame, As If It Were A Little Alcohol Stove, As Low As It Will Go. Then It Explodes And That Is My Idea.

Funny Sarcastic

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

Rush, That Most Exciting Perversion Of Life, The Necessity Of Accomplishing Something In Less Time Than Should Be Truly Allowed For Its Doing.

Accomplishing Something

To Be Successful In Writing, Use Short Sentences.

The Best Writing Is Certainly When You Are In Love

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

I've Been In Love (truly) With Five Women, The Spanish Republic And The 4th Infantry Division.

Infantry Division

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

Any Man Who Eats Dessert Is Not Drinking Enough.

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. . . .when You Stop You Are As Empty, And At The Same Time Never Empty But Filling, As When You Have E Made Love To Someone You Love. Nothing Can Hurt You, Nothing Can Happen, Nothing Means Anything Until The Next Day When You Do It Again. It Is The Wait Until The Next Day That Is Hard To Get Through.

It Is By Riding A Bicycle That You Learn The Contours Of A Country Best, Since You Have To Sweat Up The Hills And Coast Down Them. Thus You Remember Them As They Actually Are, While In A Motor Car Only A High Hill Impresses You, And You Have No Such Accurate Remembrance Of The Country You Have Driven Through As You Gain By Riding A Bicycle.

Everything That A Painter Did Or That A Writer Wrote Was A Part Of His Training And Preparation For What He Was To Do.

I Wish I Had Died Before I Ever Loved Anyone But Her.

Nobody That Ever Left Their Own Country Ever Wrote Anything Worth Printing. Not Even In The Newspapers.

The Game Of Golf Would Lose A Great Deal If Croquet Mallets And Billiard Cues Were Allowed On The Putting Green.

I've Seen You, Beauty, And You Belong To Me Now, Whoever You Are Waiting For And If I Never See You Again, I Thought. You Belong To Me And All Paris Belongs To Me And I Belong To This Notebook And This Pencil.

A Cat Has Absolute Honesty.

I Think You Should Learn About Writing From Everybody Who Has Ever Written That Has Anything To Teach You

You Must Hold Hard To Life And Do It. But Life Is A Cheap Thing Beside A Man's Work. The Only Thing Is That You Need It. Hold It Tight.

Humility Is Not Disgraceful, And Carries No Loss Of True Pride.

Everyone Behaves Badly--given The Chance.

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

The Great Thing Is To Last And Get Your Work Done And See And Hear And Learn And Understand; And Write When There Is Something That You Know; And Not Before, And Not Too Damned Much After.

She Was Looking Into My Eyes With That Way She Had Of Looking That Made You Wonder Whether She Really Saw Out Of Her Own Eyes. They Would Look On And On After Every One Else's Eyes In The World Would Have Stopped Looking. She Looked As Though There Were Nothing On Earth She Would Not Look At Like That, And Really She Was Afraid Of So Many Things.

Modern Life ... Is Often A Mechanical Oppression And Liquor Is The Only Mechanical Relief.

Ezra Was Right Half The Time, And When He Was Wrong, He Was So Wrong You Were Never In Any Doubt About It.

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

You May Talk. And I May Listen. And Miracles Might Happen.

But Don't Try To Find An Untroublesome Woman. She Will Dull Out On You. What Makes A Woman Good In Bed Makes It Impossible For Her To Live Alone.

There Is No Friend As Loyal As A Book.

I Am An Old Man Who Will Live Until I Die," Anselmo Said.

He Did Not Care For The Lying At First. He Hated It. Then Later He Had Come To Like It. It Was Part Of Being An Insider But It Was A Very Corrupting Business.

Fascism Is A Lie Told By Bullies.

You Are So Brave And Quiet I Forget You Are Suffering.

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

The Smallest Coffins Are The Heaviest.

She Is Kind And Very Beautiful. But She Can Be So Cruel And It Comes So Suddenly And Such Birds That Fly, Dipping And Hunting, With Their Small Sad Voices Are Made Too Delicately For The Sea.

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

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.

Wonder What Day God Created The Egg' 'how Should We Know? We Should Not Question. Our Stay On Earth Is Not For Long. Let Us Rejoice And Believe And Give Thanks'. 'eat A Egg

When You Have A Child, The World Has A Hostage.

Failure And Well-disguised Cowardice Are More Human And More Beloved.

But After I Got Them To Leave And Shut The Door And Turned Off The Light It Wasn't Any Good. It Was Like Saying Good-by To A Statue. After A While I Went Out And Left The Hospital And Walked Back To The Hotel In The Rain.

This Is A Good Place," He Said. "there's A Lot Of Liquor," I Agreed.

When Things Are Going Well, I Like To Have People To Share It With. I've Been Alone In Troubled Times, And I Don't Mind That. Some Things Have To Be Endured Alone. As Hemingway Said, The Human Being Is Strong In All The Broken Places.

(world War I) Was The Most Colossal, Murderous, Mismanaged Butchery That Has Ever Taken Place On Earth. Any Writer Who Said Otherwise Lied, So The Writers Either Wrote Propaganda, Shut Up, Or Fought.

How Would That Premise Stand Up If He Examined It? That Was Probably Why The Communists Were Always Cracking Down On Bohemiansism. When You Were Drunk Or When You Committed Adultery You Recognised Your Own Personal Fallability Of That So Mutable Substitute For The Apostles' Creed, The Party Line. Down With Bohemianism, The Sin Of Majakowski.

I Used To Play Cello. My Mother Kept Me Out Of School A Whole Year To Study Music And Counterpoint. She Thought I Had Ability, But I Was Absolutely Without Talent.

Wine Is A Grand Thing," I Said. "it Makes You Forget All The Bad.

Farewell To Arms

The Writer's Job Is To Tell The Truth.

Telling The Truth

The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The Brave But One'.... (the Man Who First Said That) Was Probably A Coward.... He Knew A Great Deal About Cowards But Nothing About The Brave. The Brave Dies Perhaps Two Thousand Deaths If He's Intelligent. He Simply Doesn't Mention Them.

I Didn't Want To Kiss You Goodbye — That Was The Trouble — I Wanted To Kiss You Good Night — And There's A Lot Of Difference.

Use Short Sentences. Use Short First Paragraphs. Use Vigorous English. Be Positive, Not Negative.

I've Tried To Reduce Profanity But I Reduced So Much Profanity When Writing The Book That I'm Afraid Not Much Could Come Out. Perhaps We Will Have To Consider It Simply As A Profane Book And Hope That The Next Book Will Be Less Profane Or Perhaps More Sacred.

What Did I Know Best That I Had Not Written About And Lost? What Did I Know About Truly And Care For The Most?

You Love A Lot Of Things If You Live Around Them, But There Isn't Any Woman And There Isn't Any Horse, Nor Any Before Nor Any After, That Is As Lovely As A Great Airplane.

America Is The Land Of Wide Lawns And Narrow Minds.

I Am Glad We Do Not Have To Try To Kill The Stars.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Unbought Stuffed Dogs.

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

If You're Looking For Messages, Try Western Union.

A Writer Without A Sense Of Justice Or Injustice Would Be Better Off Editing The Yearbook For A School For Exceptional Children.

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.

We All Take A Beating Every Day, You Know, One Way Or Another.

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

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.

A Bottle Of Wine Was Good Company.

[never Give Up Hope. Never Give In To Pessimism. Never Despair.] No Horse Named Morbid Ever Won A Race!

I'm Tired Of Everybody. Please Forgive Me.

Don't You Drink? I Notice You Speak Slightingly Of The Bottle. I Have Drunk Since I Was Fifteen And Few Things Have Given Me More Pleasure.

For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn.

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).

An Intelligent Man Is Sometimes Forced To Be Drunk To Spend Time With His Fools.

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

The Sinews Of War Are Five - Men, Money, Materials, Maintenance (food) And Morale.

If A Writer Stops Observing, He Is Finished.

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.

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.

Until The Dead Are Buried They Change Somewhat In Appearance Each Day. The Color Change In Caucasian Races Is From White To Yellow, To Yellow-green, To Black. If Left Long Enough In The Heat The Flesh Comes To Resemble Coal-tar, Especially Where It Has Been Broken Or Torn, And It Has Quite A Visible Tarlike Iridescence. The Dead Grow Larger Each Day Until Sometimes They Become Quite Too Big For Their Uniforms, Filling These Until They Seem Blown Tight Enough To Burst. The Individual Members May Increase In Girth To An Unbelievable Extent And Faces Fill As Taut And Globular As Balloons.

The Better The Writers The Less They Will Speak About What They Have Written Themselves.

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

And Bed, He Thought. Bed Is My Friend. Just Bed, He Thought. Bed Will Be A Great Thing. It Is Easy When You Are Beaten, He Thought. I Never Knew How Easy It Was. And What Beat You, The Thought.

I Still Need More Healthy Rest In Order To Work At My Best. My Health Is The Main Capital I Have And I Want To Administer It Intelligently.

Nobody Knows What's In Him Until He Tries To Pull It Out. If There's Nothing, Or Very Little, The Shock Can Kill A Man.

My Heart's Broken,' He Thought. 'if I Feel This Way My Heart Must Be Broken.

Organizations For Writers Palliate The Writer's Loneliness, But I Doubt If They Improve His Writing.... For He Does His Work Alone And If He Is A Good Enough Writer He Must Face Eternity, Or The Lack Of It, Each Day.

Look At Things And Listen And Feel.

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

Read Anything I Write For The Pleasure Of Reading It. Whatever Else You Find Will Be The Measure Of What You Brought To The Reading.

I Have A Rotten Habit Of Picturing The Bedroom Scenes Of My Friends.

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

But I Think The Great Dimaggio Would Be Proud Of Me Today.

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.

Never Delay Kissing A Pretty Girl Or Opening A Bottle Of Whiskey

When Writing A Novel A Writer Should Create Living People; People Not Characters. A Character Is A Caricature.

One Cat Just Leads To Another." [letter From Finca Vigia, Cuba, To His First Wife, Elizabeth Hadley Richardson (1943).]

Your Blood Coagulates Beautifully.

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

I Am Thee And Thou Art Me And All Of One Is The Other.

You’re My Religion. You’re All I’ve Got.

Farewell To Arms

One Cat Just Leads To Another. The Place Is So Damned Big It Doesn't Really Seem As Though There Were Many Cats Until You See Them All Moving Like A Mass Migration At Feeding Time.

Before We Take To The Sea, We Walk On Land. . . Before We Create, We Must Understand. . .

Everybody Has Something Wrong With Them.

It Seemed Out Of Place To Think Of Consequences During The Fiesta.

Love Is Infinitely More Endurable Than Hate.

The Telephone And Visitors Are The Work Destroyers.

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

Do You Know How An Ugly Woman Feels? Do You Know What It Is To Be Ugly All Your Life And Inside To Feel That You Are Beautiful? It Is Very Rare.

Good Dialogue Is Not Real Speech-it's The Illusion Of Real Speech.

Abstract Words Such As Glory, Honor, Courage, Or Hallow Were Obscene Beside The Concrete Names Of Villages, The Numbers Of Roads, The Names Of Rivers, The Numbers Of Regiments And The Dates.

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

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

There Is Never Any Ending To Paris And The Memory Of Each Person Who Has Lived In It Differs From That Of Any Other. We Always Returned To It No Matter Who We Were Or How It Was Changed Or With What Difficulties, Or Ease, It Could Be Reached. Paris Was Always Worth It And You Received Return For Whatever You Brought To It. But This Is How Paris Was In The Early Days When We Were Very Poor And Very Happy.

[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)

I Always Rewrite Each Day Up To The Point Where I Stopped. When It Is All Finished, Naturally You Go Over It. You Get Another Chance To Correct And Rewrite When Someone Else Types It, And You See It Clean In Type. The Last Chance Is In The Proofs. You're Grateful For These Different Chances.

It Is All Very Well For You To Write Simply And The Simpler The Better. But Do Not Start To Think So Damned Simply. Know How Complicated It Is And Then State It Simply.

The Rain Will Stop, The Night Will End, The Hurt Will Fade. Hope Is Never So Lost That It Can't Be Found.

Where A Man Feels At Home, Outside Of Where He’s Born, Is Where He’s Meant To Go.

Hesitation Increases In Relation To Risk In Equal Proportion To Age.

Details Make Stories Human, And The More Human A Story Can Be, The Better.

I Don't Think I Ever Owned Twenty Pencils At One Time. Wearing Down Seven Number-two Pencils Is A Good Day's Work.

As A Nobel Prize Winner I Cannot But Regret That The Award Was Never Given To Mark Twain, Nor To Henry James, Speaking Only Of My Own Countrymen. Greater Writers Than These Also Did Not Receive The Prize. I Would Have Been Happy - Happier - Today If The Prize Had Been Given To That Beautiful Writer Isak Dinesen.

Easy Writing Makes Hard Reading.

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

What A Writer Has To Do Is Write What Hasn't Been Written Before Or Beat Dead Men At What They Have Done.

And Who Understands? Not Me, Because If I Did I Would Forgive It All.

I Have Watched Them All Day And They Are The Same Men That We Are. I Believe That I Could Walk Up To The Mill And Knock On The Door And I Would Be Welcome Except That They Have Orders To Challenge All Travelers And Ask To See Their Papers. It Is Only Orders That Come Between Us. Those Men Are Not Fascists. I Call Them So, But They Are Not. They Are Poor Men As We Are. They Should Never Be Fighting Against Us And I Do Not Like To Think Of The Killing.

If You Have A Success, You Have It For The Wrong Reasons. If You Become Popular It Is Always Because Of The Worst Aspects Of Your Work.

My Working Habits Are Simple: Long Periods Of Thinking, Short Periods Of Writing.

The Story Was Writing Itself And I Was Having A Hard Time Keeping Up With It.

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

Hail Nothing Full Of Nothing, Nothing Is With Thee.

It Is Awfully Easy To Be Hard-boiled About Everything In The Daytime, But At Night It Is Another Thing.

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.

There Are Only Three Sports: Bullfighting, Motor Racing, And Mountaineering; All The Rest Are Merely Games.

The Hard Part About Writing A Novel Is Finishing It.

You Did Not Kill The Fish Only To Keep Alive And To Sell For Food, He Thought. You Killed Him For Pride And Because You Are A Fisherman. You Loved Him When He Was Alive And You Loved Him After. If You Love Him, It Is Not A Sin To Kill Him. Or Is It More?

That Is What We Are Supposed To Do When We Are At Our Best - Make It All Up - But Make It Up So Truly That Later It Will Happen That Way.

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.

Don't You Ever Get The Feeling That All Your Life Is Going By And You're Not Taking Advantage Of It? Do You Realize You've Lived Nearly Half The Time You Have To Live Already?

Live Life To The Fullest

It Was Strange How Easy Being Tired Enough Made It.

War Is No Longer Made By Simply Analyzed Economic Forces If It Ever Was. War Is Made Or Planned Now By Individual Men, Demagogues And Dictators Who Play On The Patriotism Of Their People To Mislead Them Into A Belief In The Great Fallacy Of War When All Their Vaunted Reforms Have Failed To Satisfy The People They Misrule.

Anyone Can Be A Fisherman In May.

In Those Days, There Was No Money To Buy Books.

Once Writing Has Become Your Major Vice And Greatest Pleasure Only Death Can Stop It.

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

Write The Best Story That You Can And Write It As Straight As You Can.

When We Came Back To Paris It Was Clear And Cold And Lovely.

I'm With You. No Matter What Else You Have In Your Head I'm With You And I Love You.

You Have It Now And That Is All Your Whole Life Is; Now. There Is Nothing Else Than Now. There Is Neither Yesterday, Certainly, Nor Is There Any Tomorrow.

Find What Gave You Emotion; What The Action Was That Gave You Excitement. Then Write It Down Making It Clear So That The Reader Can See It Too. Prose Is Architecture, Not Interior Decoration, And The Baroque Is Over.

No; That Doesn't Interest Me.' 'that's Because You Never Read A Book About It.

To Hell With Luck. I'll Bring The Luck With Me.

Il Faut D'abord Durer (first One Must Endure).

Every Day Is A New Day. It Is Better To Be Lucky. But I Would Rather Be Exact. Then When Luck Comes You Are Ready.

This Beer Is Good For You. This Is Draft Beer. Stick With The Beer. Let's Go And Beat This Guy Up And Come Back And Drink Some More Beer.

But Perhaps He Had Enough Animal Strength And Detached Intelligence That He Could Make Another Start.

Anyone Who Says He Wants To Be A Writer And Isn't Writing, Doesn't.

A Writer Is Like A Gypsy. He Owes No Allegiance To Any Government. If He Is A Good Writer He Will Never Like Any Government He Lives Under. His Hand Should Be Against It And Its Hand Will Always Be Against Him.

Never Write About A Place Until You're Away From It, Because It Gives You Perspective. Immediately After You've Seen Something You Can Give A Photographic Description Of It And Make It Accurate. That's Good Practice, But It Isn't Creative Writing.

Here Is The Piece. If You Can't Say Fornicate Can You Say Copulate Or If Not That Can You Say Co-habit? If Not That Would Have To Say Consummate I Suppose. Use Your Own Good Taste And Judgment.

Taste And Judgment

When People Talk, Listen Completely. Most People Never Listen.

Find The Best Writers, Pay Them To Write, And Avoid Typos At All Costs.

There Is A Mystery In All Great Writing And That Mystery Does Not Dissect Out. It Continues And Is Always Valid.

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

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.

Prose Is Architecture, Not Interior Decoration, And The Baroque Is Over.

The Fact That I Am Interrupting Serious Work To Answer These Questions Proves That I Am So Stupid That I Should Be Penalized Severely. I Will Be. Don't Worry.

A Writer Should Be Of As Great Probity And Honesty As A Priest Of God. He Is Either Honest Or Not, As A Woman Is Either Chaste Or Not, And After One Piece Of Dishonest Writing He Is Never The Same Again.

Wine Is The Most Civilized Thing In The World.

There Is Nothing Else Than Now. There Is Neither Yesterday, Certainly, Nor Is There Any Tomorrow. How Old Must You Be Before You Know That? There Is Only Now, And If Now Is Only Two Days, Then Two Days Is Your Life And Everything In It Will Be In Proportion. This Is How You Live A Life In Two Days. And If You Stop Complaining And Asking For What You Never Will Get, You Will Have A Good Life. A Good Life Is Not Measured By Any Biblical Span.

There Are Only Two Places In The World Where We Can Live Happy: At Home And In Paris.

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.

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

So This Was How You Died, In Whispers That You Did Not Hear.

First, There Must Be Talent. . .then There Must Be Discipline. . .then There Must Be. . .and Absolute Conscience. . .to Prevent Faking.

He Rested Sitting On The Un-stepped Mast And Sail And Tried Not To Think But Only To Endure.

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