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I Was Always Embarresed By The Words 'sacred,' 'glorious,' And 'sacrifice' And The Expression 'in Vain.' We Had Heard Them, Sometimes Standing In The Rain Almost Out Of Earshot, So That Only The Shouted Words Came Through, And Had Read Them On Proclamations That Were Slapped Up By Billposters Over Other Proclamations, Now For A Long Time, And I Had Seen Nothing Sacred, And The Things That Were Glorious Had No Glory And The Sacrifices Were Like The Stock Yards At Chicago If Nothing Was Done With The Meat Except To Bury It.

-Ernest Hemingway

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I Was Always Embarresed

Ernest Hemingway

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I Was Always Embarresed By The Words 'sacred,' 'glorious,' And 'sacrifice' And The Expression 'in Vain.' We Had Heard Them, Sometimes Standing In The Rain Almost Out Of Earshot, So That Only The Shouted Words Came Through, And Had Read Them On Proclamations That Were Slapped Up By Billposters Over Other Proclamations, Now For A Long Time, And I Had Seen Nothing Sacred, And The Things That Were Glorious Had No Glory And The Sacrifices Were Like The Stock Yards At Chicago If Nothing Was Done With The Meat Except To Bury It.

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Live It Up So You Can Write It Down.

You Write A Book Like That You're Fond Of Over The Years, Then You See That Happen To It, It's Like Pissing In Your Father's Beer.

I Do Not Know What I Thought Paris Would Be Like, But It Was Not That Way. It Rained Nearly Every Day.

Tell Me Some True Things About Fighting.''tell Me You Love Me.''i Love You,' The Girl Said. 'you Can Publish It In The Gazzettino If You Like. I Love Your Hard, Flat Body And Your Strange Eyes That Frighten Me When They Become Wicked. I Love Your Hand And All Your Other Wounded Places.

Writing Is Something That You Can Never Do As Well As It Can Be Done. It Is A Perpetual Challenge And It Is More Difficult Than Anything Else That I Have Ever Done.

And You Treat Me Wonderfully And Keep All Your Promises.

How Lazily The Sun Goes Down In Granada, It Hides Beneath The Water, It Conceals In The Alhambra!

Never Confuse Movement With Action.

A Severed Femoral Artery Empties Itself Faster Than You Can Believe.

In Africa A Thing Is True At First Light And A Lie By Noon And You Have No More Respect For It Than For The Lovely, Perfect Wood-fringed Lake You See Across The Sun-baked Salt Plain. You Have Walked Across That Plain In The Morning And You Know That No Such Lake Is There. But Now It Is There Absolutely True, Beautiful And Believable.

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.

A Good Life Is Not Measured By Any Biblical Span.

To Invent Out Of Knowledge Means To Produce Inventions That Are True. Every Man Should Have A Built-in Automatic Crap Detector Operating Inside Him. It Also Should Have A Manual Drill And A Crank Handle In Case The Machine Breaks Down. If You're Going To Write, You Have To Find Out What's Bad For You. Part Of That You Learn Fast, And Then You Learn What's Good For You.

A Writer Can Be Compared To A Well. There Are As Many Kinds Of Wells As There Are Writers. The Important Thing Is To Have Good Water In The Well, And It Is Better To Take A Regular Amount Out Than To Pump The Well Dry And Wait For It To Refill.

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

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

It's All Nonsense. It's Only Nonsense. I'm Not Afraid Of The Rain. I Am Not Afraid Of The Rain. Oh, Oh, God, I Wish I Wasn't.

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.

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.

You Could Omit Anything If You Knew That The Omitted Part Would Strengthen The Short Story And Make People Feel Something More Than They Understood

In The Early Morning On The Lake Sitting In The Stern Of The Boat With His Father Rowing, He Felt Quite Sure That He Would Never Die.

It Is Impossible To Believe The Emotional And Spiritual Intensity And Pure, Classic Beauty That Can Be Produced By A Man, An Animal, And A Piece Of Scarlet Serge Draped Over A Stick.

Some Lived In It And Never Felt It But He Knew It All Was Nada Y Pues Nada Y Nada Y Pues Nada.

There Are Some Things Which Cannot Be Learned Quickly, And Time, Which Is All We Have, Must Be Paid Heavily For Their Acquiring.

Acquiring Things

The Good Parts Of A Book May Be Only Something A Writer Is Lucky Enough To Overhear Or It May Be The Wreck Of His Whole Damn Life - And One Is As Good As Another.

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

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

Human Condition

Honor To A Spaniard, No Matter How Dishonest, Is As Real A Thing As Water, Wine, Or Olive Oil. There Is Honor Among Pickpockets And Honor Among Whores. It Is Simply That The Standards Differ.

How Little We Know Of What There Is To Know. I Wish That I Were Going To Live A Long Time Instead Of Going To Die Today Because I Have Learned Much About Life In These Four Days; More, I Think Than In All Other Time. I'd Like To Be An Old Man To Really Know. I Wonder If You Keep On Learning Or If There Is Only A Certain Amount Each Man Can Understand. I Thought I Knew So Many Things That I Know Nothing Of. I Wish There Was More Time.

For We Have Thought The Longer Thoughts And Gone The Shorter Way. And We Have Danced To Devils' Tunes, Shivering Home To Pray; To Serve One Master In The Night, Another In The Day.

Wars Are Spinach. Life In General Is The Tough Part. In War All You Have To Do Is Not Worry And Know How To Read A Map And Co-ordinates.

The Best Way To Find Out If You Can Trust Somebody Is To Trust Them.

He Could Beat Anything, He Thought, Because No Thing Could Hurt Him If He Did Not Care.

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.

Easy Writing Makes Hard Reading.

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

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

A Bottle Of Wine Was Good Company.

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

I Try Not To Borrow, First You Borrow Then You Beg.

I Kept This To Remind Me Of You Trying To Brush Away The Villa Rossa From Your Teeth In The Morning, Swearing And Eating Aspirin And Cursing Harlots. Every Time I See That Glass I Think Of You Trying To Clean Your Conscience With A Toothbrush.

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.

A Writer's Problem Does Not Change. He Himself Changes And The World He Lives In Changes But His Problem Remains The Same. It Is Always How To Write Truly And Having Found What Is True, To Project It Is Such A Way That It Becomes A Part Of The Experience Of The Person Who Reads It.

As A Writer, You Should Not Judge, You Should Understand.

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.

Write Drunk; Edit Sober.

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

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

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.

My Big Fish Must Be Somewhere.

The Ocean Is Worth Writing About Just As Man Is.

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.

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

Nobody Ever Lives Their Life All The Way Up Except Bullfighters.

We Are All Apprentices In A Craft Where No One Ever Becomes A Master.

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.

You're Beautiful, Like A May Fly.

You Re Beautiful

It's Enough For You To Do It Once For A Few Men To Remember You. But If You Do It Year After Year, Then Many People Remember You And They Tell It To Their Children, And Their Children And Grandchildren Remember And, If It Concerns Books, They Can Read Them. And If It's Good Enough, It Will Last As Long As There Are Human Beings.

My Attitude Toward Punctuation Is That It Ought To Be As Conventional As Possible. The Game Of Golf Would Lose A Good Deal If Croquet Mallets And Billiard Cues Were Allowed On The Putting Green. You Ought To Be Able To Show That You Can Do It A Good Deal Better Than Anyone Else With The Regular Tools Before You Have A License To Bring In Your Own Improvements.

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

Farewell To Arms

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.

Imagination? It Is The One Thing Beside Honesty That A Good Writer Must Have. The More He Learns From Experience The More He Can Imagine.

There Are Many Good Fishermen And Some Great Ones. But There Is Only One You.

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.

Maybe...you'll Fall In Love With Me All Over Again." "hell," I Said, "i Love You Enough Now. What Do You Want To Do? Ruin Me?" "yes. I Want To Ruin You." "good," I Said. "that's What I Want Too.

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

The Fish Is My Friend Too...i Have Never Seen Or Heard Of Such A Fish. But I Must Kill Him. I Am Glad We Do Not Have To Try To Kill The Stars. Imagine If Each Day A Man Must Try To Kill The Moon, He Thought. The Moon Runs Away. But Imagine If A Man Each Day Should Have To Try To Kill The Sun? We Were Born Lucky; He Thought

I Spend A Hell Of A Lot Of Time Killing Animals And Fish So I Wouldn't Kill Myself. When A Man Is In Rebellion Against Death, As I Am In Rebellion Against Death, He Gets Pleasure Out Of Taking To Himself One Of The Godlike Attributes; That Of Giving It.

We Need More True Mystery In Our Lives Hem- He Said. The Completely Unambitious Writer And The Really Good Unpublished Poem Are The Things We Lack Most. There Is Of Course The Problem Of Sustenance

What Is The Definition Of Guts? Grace Under Pressure.

I Was Always A Lonely Person When I Was With Everyone.

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

This Was The Price You Paid For Sleeping Together. This Was The End Of The Trap. This Was What People Got For Loving Each Other.

Hunger Is Good Discipline.

Good Discipline

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

How Little We Know Of What There Is To Know.

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.

In Stating As Fully As I Could How Things Really Were, It Was Often Very Difficult And I Wrote Awkwardly And The Awkwardness Is What They Called My Style. All Mistakes And Awkwardness Are Easy To See, And They Called It Style.

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.

There Is No Rule On How To Write.

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.

I Thought That All Generations Were Lost By Something And Always Had Been And Always Would Be

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.

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

Farewell To Arms

As I Ate The Oysters With Their Strong Taste Of The Sea And Their Faint Metallic Taste That The Cold White Wine Washed Away, Leaving Only The Sea Taste And The Succulent Texture, And As I Drank Their Cold Liquid From Each Shell And Washed It Down With The Crisp Taste Of The Wine, I Lost The Empty Feeling And Began To Be Happy And To Make Plans.

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.

I Am Like A Blind Pig When I Work.

I Wish I Could Write Well Enough To Write About Aircraft. Faulkner Did It Very Well In Pylon But You Cannot Do Something Someone Else Has Done Though You Might Have Done It If They Hadn't.

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 Ought To Dream. All Our Biggest Businessmen Have Been Dreamers.

I Was Always Embarresed By The Words 'sacred,' 'glorious,' And 'sacrifice' And The Expression 'in Vain.' We Had Heard Them, Sometimes Standing In The Rain Almost Out Of Earshot, So That Only The Shouted Words Came Through, And Had Read Them On Proclamations That Were Slapped Up By Billposters Over Other Proclamations, Now For A Long Time, And I Had Seen Nothing Sacred, And The Things That Were Glorious Had No Glory And The Sacrifices Were Like The Stock Yards At Chicago If Nothing Was Done With The Meat Except To Bury It.

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.

Most People Never Listen.

Anglers Have A Way Of Romanticizing Their Battles With Fish.

If Two People Love Each Other There Can Be No Happy End To It.

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.

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.

One Battle Doesn't Make A Campagin, But Critics Treat One Book, Good Or Bad, Like A Whole War.

We Thought Of Wine As Something As Healthy And Normal As Food And Also As A Great Giver Of Happiness And Well Being And Delight.

The Echoes Of Beauty You've Seen Transpire, Resound Through Dying Coals Of A Campfire.

No Horse Named Morbid Ever Won A Race.

You Know That Fiction, Prose Rather, Is Possibly The Roughest Trade Of All In Writing. You Do Not Have The Reference, The Old Important Reference. You Have The Sheet Of Blank Paper, The Pencil, And The Obligation To Invent Truer Than Things Can Be True. You Have To Take What Is Not Palpable And Make It Completely Palpable And Also Have It Seem Normal And So That It Can Become A Part Of Experience Of The Person Who Reads It.

There Is A Great Inertia About All Military Operations Of Any Size. But Once This Inertia Has Been Overcome And Underway They Are Almost As Hard To Arrest As To Initiate.

War Is Not Won By Victory.

Never Mistake Movement For Action

That Every Day Should Be A Fiesta Seemed To Me A Wonderful Discovery.

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

Farewell To Arms

I Would Not Have Thought Of Eating A Meal Without Drinking A Beer.

Once In Africa I Lost The Corkscrew And We Were Forced To Live Off Food And Water For Weeks.

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.

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

Remember To Get The Weather In Your Damn Book-weather Is Very Important.

Romance Was A Game, Like Bridge, In Which You Said Things Instead Of Playing Cards. Like Bridge You Had To Pretend You Were Playing For Money Or Playing For Some Stakes.

It's Silly Not To Hope. It's A Sin He Thought.

Listen Now. When People Talk Listen Completely. Don't Be Thinking What You're Going To Say. Most People Never Listen. Nor Do They Observe.

Defense Is The Stronger Form With The Negative Object, And Attack The Weaker Form With The Positive Object.

Hail Nothing Full Of Nothing, Nothing Is With Thee.

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.

If A Writer Stops Observing He Is Finished. But He Does Not Have To Observe Consciously Nor Think How It Will Be Useful. Perhaps That Would Be True At The Beginning. But Later Everything He Sees Goes Into The Great Reserve Of Things He Knows Or Has Seen.

Never Go On Trips With Anyone You Do Not Love.

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.

It Is Silly Not To Hope, Besides I Believe It Is A Sin." The Old Man And The Sea

I Do Not Need To Get Used To Your Silence. I Already Know It. I Quite Possibly Love All Of It.

A Writer Should Write What He Has To Say And Not Speak It.

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

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

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

Shooting Gives Me A Good Feeling. It Is Faster Than Baseball And You Are Out On One Strike.

It's Harder To Write In The Third Person But The Advantage Is You Move Around Better.

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.

Why Do Old Men Wake So Early? Is It To Have One Longer Day?

It Was Considered A Virtue Not To Talk Unnecessarily At Sea.

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

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.

I Was Blown Up While We Were Eating Cheese.

Farewell To Arms

And You'll Always Love Me Won't You? Yes And The Rain Won't Make Any Difference? No

Farewell To Arms

I Write Description In Longhand Because That's Hardest For Me And You're Closer To The Paper When You Work By Hand, But I Use The Typewriter For Dialogue Because People Speak Like A Typewriter Works.

All A Man Has Is Pride. Sometimes You Have It So Much It Is A Sin. We Have All Done Things For Pride That We Knew Were Impossible. We Didn't Care. But A Man Must Implement His Pride With Intelligence And Care.

Having Books Published Is Very Destructive To Writing.

Now He Was Proving It Again. Each Time Was A New Time And He Never Thought About The Past When He Was Doing It.

He Knew He Would Not Be Afraid. Even If He Ever Was Afraid He Knew That He Could Do It Anyway.

Everyone Behaves Badly--given The Chance.

My Life Used To Be Full Of Everything. Now If You Aren't With Me I Haven't A Thing In The World.

Religion Is Like An Ice Cold Whiskey On A Hot Day.

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.

Fish," He Said Softly, Aloud, "i'll Stay With You Until I Am Dead.

When You Give Power To An Executive You Do Not Know Who Will Be Filling That Position When The Time Of Crisis Comes.

Times Of Crisis

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.

The Most Beautiful Fighting Machine I Have Ever Seen

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

Write The Story, Take Out All The Good Lines, And See If It Still Works.

You Are All A Lost Generation. [with Credit To Gertrude Stein]

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

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

Unhappy Childhood

The Smallest Coffins Are The Heaviest.

No One You Love Is Ever Truly Lost.

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

You Make Your Own Luck, Gig. You Know What Makes A Good Loser? Practice.

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.

Everything Is On Such A Clear Financial Basis In France. It Is The Simplest Country To Live In. No One Makes Things Complicated By Becoming Your Friend For Any Obscure Reason. If You Want People To Like You You Have Only To Spend A Little Money. I Spent A Little Money And The Waiter Liked Me. He Appreciated My Valuable Qualities. He Would Be Glad To See Me, And Would Want Me At His Table. It Would Be A Sincere Liking Because It Would Have A Sound Basis. I Was Back In France.

In The Fall The War Was Always There But We Did Not Go To It Any More.

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.

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

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.

If The Wind Rises It Can Push Us Against The Flood When It Comes.

In Modern War... You Will Die Like A Dog For No Good Reason.

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.

Religion Is The Opium Of The Poor.

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

Part Of You Died Each Year When The Leaves Fell From The Trees And Their Branches Were Bare Against The Wind And The Cold, Wintry Light.

Never Fall In Love?" "always," Said The Count. "i Am Always In Love.

Falling In Love

Never Fall In Love

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

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.

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.

No One Ever Stopped When They Were Winning.

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.

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

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

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.

Being Against Evil Doesn't Make You Good.

Good Against Evil

We In America Should See That No Man Is Ever Given, No Matter How Gradually Or How Noble And Excellent The Man, The Power To Put This Country Into A War Which Is Now Being Prepared And Brought Closer Each Day With All The Pre-meditation Of A Long Planned Murder. For When You Give Power To An Executive You Do Not Know Who Will Be Filling That Position When The Time Of Crisis Comes.

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.

We Wait Always For Something That Does Not Come.

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

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.

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

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.

All Thinking Men Are Atheists.

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.

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

Never Confuse Motions With Action.

For A War To Be Just Three Conditions Are Necessary - Public Authority, Just Cause, Right Motive.

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.

People Fall In Love, But Have To Climb Out.

Falling In Love

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

Fish," The Old Man Said. "fish, You Are Going To Have To Die Anyway. Do You Have To Kill Me Too?

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

A Man's Got To Take A Lot Of Punishment To Write A Really Funny Book.

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.

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