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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.

-Ernest Hemingway

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I Used To Play

Ernest Hemingway

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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.

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The Road To Hell Is Paved With Unbought Stuffed Dogs.

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

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I Learned Never To Empty The Well Of My Writing, But Always To Stop When There Was Still Something There In The Deep Part Of The Well, And Let It Refill At Night From The Springs That Fed It.

I Decided That I Would Write One Story About Each Thing That I Knew About.

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.

I Love Thee And Thou Art So Lovely And So Wonderful And So Beautiful And It Does Such Things To Me To Be With Thee That I Feel As Though I Wanted To Die When I Am Loving Thee.

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

His (the Writer's) Standard Of Fidelity To The Truth Should Be So High That His Invention, Out Of His Experience, Should Produce A Truer Account Than Anything Factual Can Be.

There Are The Two Curses Of Spain, The Bulls And The Priests.

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

The Best Writing Is Certainly When You Are In Love

If My Valentine You Won't Be, I'll Hang Myself On Your Christmas Tree.

Happy Valentines Day

The Time To Work Is Shorter All The Time And If You Waste It You ... Have Committed A Sin For Which There Is No Forgiveness.

There Are Worse Places To Be Than On Your Own.

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?

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

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.

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.

Look At Things And Listen And Feel.

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.

To Me Heaven Would Be A Big Bull Ring With Me Holding Two Barrera Seats And A Trout Stream Outside That No One Else Was Allowed To Fish In And Two Lovely Houses In The Town; One Where I Would Have My Wife And Children And Be Monogamous And Love Them Truly And Well And The Other Where I Would Have My Nine Beautiful Mistresses On Nine Different Floors.

The Only Kind Of Writing Is Rewriting.

Some Other Places Were Not So Good But Maybe We Were Not So Good When We Were In Them.

All Good Books Are Alike In That They Are Truer Than If They Had Really Happened And After You Are Finished Reading One You Will Feel That All That Happened To You And Afterwards It All Belongs To You: The Good And The Bad, The Ecstasy, The Remorse And Sorrow, The People And The Places And How The Weather Was. If You Can Get So That You Can Give That To People, Then You Are A Writer.

A Bottle Of Wine Was Good Company.

The Real Reason For Not Committing Suicide Is Because You Always Know How Swell Life Gets Again After The Hell Is Over.

I Always Worked Until I Had Something Done And I Always Stopped When I Knew What Was Going To Happen Next. That Way I Could Be Sure Of Going On The Next Day.

The Bulls Are My Best Friends." I Translated To Brett. "you Kill Your Friends?" She Asked. "always," He Said In English, And Laughed. "so They Don't Kill Me.

All Stories, If Continued Far Enough, End In Death.

And If There Is Not Any Such Thing As A Long Time, Nor The Rest Of Your Lives, Nor From Now On, But There Is Only Now, Why Then Now Is The Thing To Praise And I Am Very Happy With It.

Rest Of Your Life

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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.

He Did Not Say That Because He Knew That If You Said A Good Thing It Might Not Happen.

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.

I Would Walk Along The Quais When I Had Finished Work Or When I Was Trying To Think Something Out. It Was Easier To Think If I Was Walking And Doing Something Or Seeing People Doing Something That They Understood.

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

I'm Tired Of Everybody. Please Forgive Me.

Everyone My Age Had Written A Novel And I Was Still Having Difficulty Writing A Paragraph.

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

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

Rereading Places You At The Point Where It Has To Go On, Knowing It Is As Good As You Can Get It Up To There. There Is Always Juice Somewhere.

Not The Why But The What.

He No Longer Dreamed Of Storms, Nor Of Women, Nor Of Great Occurrences, Nor Of Great Fish, Nor Fights, Nor Contests Of Strength, Nor Of His Wife. He Only Dreamed Of Places Now And The Lions On The Beach. They Played Like Young Cats In The Dusk And He Loved Them As He Loved The Boy. He Never Dreamed About The Boy. He Simply Woke, Looked Out The Open Door At The Moon And Unrolled His Trousers And Put Them On.

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

It Was A Pleasant Cafe, Warm And Clean And Friendly, And I Hung Up My Old Water-proof On The Coat Rack To Dry And Put My Worn And Weathered Felt Hat On The Rack Above The Bench And Ordered A Cafe Au Lait. The Waiter Brought It And I Took Out A Notebook From The Pocket Of The Coat And A Pencil And Started To Write.

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

Luck Is A Thing That Comes In Many Forms And Who Can Recognize Her?

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All My Life I've Looked At Words As Though I Were Seeing Them For The First Time.

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

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.

The First And Final Thing You Have To Do In This World Is To Last It And Not Be Smashed By It.

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

How Little We Know Of What There Is To Know.

All Good Books Have One Thing In Common - They Are Truer Than If They Had Really Happened.

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It Wasn't By Accident That The Gettysburg Address Was So Short. The Laws Of Prose Writing Are As Immutable As Those Of Flight, Of Mathematics, Of Physics.

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.

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

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.

I Am Like A Blind Pig When I Work.

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

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

The Best Ammunition Against Lies Is The Truth, There Is No Ammunition Against Gossip. It Is Like A Fog And The Clear Wind Blows It Away And The Sun Burns It Off.

How Did You Go Bankrupt?" Two Ways. Gradually, Then Suddenly.

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

For A True Writer Each Book Should Be A New Beginning Where He Tries Again For Something That Is Beyond Attainment. He Should Always Try For Something That Has Never Been Done Or That Others Have Tried And Failed. Then Sometimes, With Great Luck, He Will Succeed.

I Drank A Bottle Of Wine For Company. It Was Chateau Margaux. It Was Pleasant To Be Drinking Slowly And To Be Tasting The Wine And To Be Drinking Alone. A Bottle Of Wine Was Good Company.

You’ll Ache. And You’re Going To Love It. It Will Crush You. And You’re Still Going To Love All Of It.

A Person With Increasing Knowledge And Sensory Education May Derive Infinite Enjoyment From Wine.

Take A Good Rest, Small Bird," He Said. "then Go In And Take Your Chance Like Any Man Or Bird Or Fish.

I Was So Sentimental About You I'd Break Any One's Heart For You. My, I Was A Damned Fool. I Broke My Own Heart, Too. It's Broken And Gone. Everything I Believe In And Everything I Cared About I Left For You Because You Were So Wonderful And You Loved Me So Much That Love Was All That Mattered. Love Was The Greatest Thing, Wasn't It?

But In The Night He Woke And Held Her Tight As Though She Were All Of Life And It Was Being Taken From Him. He Held Her Feeling She Was All Of Life There Was And It Was True.

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.

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.

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

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

You Don't Have To Destroy Me. Do You? I'm Only A Woman Who Loves You And Wants To Do What You Want To Do. I've Been Destroyed Two Or Three Times Already. You Wouldn't Want To Destroy Me Again, Would You?

There Is No Such Thing As Great Writing - There Is Only Great Re-writing!

The Most Painful Thing Is Losing Yourself In The Process Of Loving Someone Too Much, And Forgetting That You Are Special Too.

Oh, Darling, I've Been So Miserable.

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.

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

The Only Place Where You Could See Life And Death, I. E., Violent Death Now That The Wars Were Over, Was In The Bull Ring And I Wanted Very Much To Go To Spain Where I Could Study It. I Was Trying To Learn To Write, Commencing With The Simplest Things, And One Of The Simplest Things Of All And The Most Fundamental Is Violent Death.

You've Such A Lovely Temperature.

If People Bring So Much Courage To This World The World Has To Kill Them To Break Them, So Of Course It Kills Them. The World Breaks Every One And Afterward Many Are Strong At The Broken Places. But Those That Will Not Break It Kills. It Kills The Very Good And The Very Gentle And The Very Brave Impartially. If You Are None Of These You Can Be Sure It Will Kill You Too But There Will Be No Special Hurry.

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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.

Now Catherine Would Die. That Was What You Did. You Died. You Did Not Know What It Was About. You Never Had Time To Learn. They Threw You In And Told You The Rules And The First Time They Caught You Off Base They Killed You. Or They Killed You Gratuitously Like Aymo. Or Gave You The Syphilis Like Rinaldi. But They Killed You In The End. You Could Count On That. Stay Around And They Would Kill You.

Farewell To Arms

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