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The Fun Of Talk Is To Explore, But Much Of It And All That Is Irresponsible Should Not Be Written. Once Written You Have To Stand By It. You May Have Said It To See Whether You Believed It Or Not.

-Ernest Hemingway

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The Fun Of Talk

Ernest Hemingway

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The Fun Of Talk Is To Explore, But Much Of It And All That Is Irresponsible Should Not Be Written. Once Written You Have To Stand By It. You May Have Said It To See Whether You Believed It Or Not.

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

It Wasn't By Accident That The Gettysburg Address Was So Short.

Your Blood Coagulates Beautifully.

All You Need To Do Is Write Truly And Not Care About What The Fate Of It Is.

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

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

The Best Writing Is Certainly When You Are In Love

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

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

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.

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

Lost Generation

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.

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.

All Bad Writers Are In Love With The Epic.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

Now Is No Time To Think Of What You Do Not Have. Think Of What You Can Do With That There Is

Any Man's Life, Told Truly, Is A Novel.

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

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.

Oh, Darling, I've Been So Miserable.

You Must Be Prepared To Work Always Without Applause.

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

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.

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.

No Horse Named Morbid Ever Won A Race.

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.

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

You've Such A Lovely Temperature.

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

Farewell To Arms

We Wait Always For Something That Does Not Come.

Life Breaks All Of Us But Some Of Us Get Stronger In The Broken Places.

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

What Difference Does It Make If You Live In A Picturesque Little Outhouse Surrounded By 300 Feeble Minded Goats And Your Faithful Dog? The Question Is: Can You Write?

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

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

Love Is Infinitely More Endurable Than Hate.

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

Remember Everything Is Right Until It's Wrong. You'll Know When It's Wrong.

Remembers Everything

I Am So In Love With You That There Isn’t Anything Else.

Switzerland Is A Small, Steep Country, Much More Up And Down Than Sideways, And Is All Stuck Over With Large Brown Hotels Built On The Cuckoo Clock Style Of Architecture.

Fortunately I Have Never Learned To Take The Good Advice I Give Myself Nor The Counsel Of My Fears.

I’m Not Brave Any More Darling. I’m All Broken. They’ve Broken Me.

Farewell To Arms

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.

Don't Do What You Sincerely Don't Want To Do. Never Confuse Movement With Action.

When You Stop Doing Things For Fun You Might As Well Be Dead.

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.

They Were Beaten To Start With. They Were Beaten When They Took Them From Their Farms And Put Them In The Army. That Is Why The Peasant Has Wisdom, Because He Is Defeated From The Start. Put Him In Power And See How Wise He Is.

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

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.

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.

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.

One Cat Just Leads To Another.

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.

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

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.

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

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

Infantry Division

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.

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.

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.

A Man Does Not Exist Until He Is Drunk.

Dying Is A Very Simple Thing. I've Looked At Death And Really I Know. If I Should Have Died It Would Have Been Very Easy For Me. Quite The Easiest Thing I Ever Did. But The People At Home Do Not Realize That. They Suffer A Thousand Times More.

I Do Not Think I Had Ever Seen A Nastier-looking Man. Under The Black Hat, When I Had First Seen Them, The Eyes Had Been Those Of An Unsuccessful Rapist.

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.

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.

Do Not Worry. You Have Always Written Before And You Will Write Now.

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

God Knows I Didn't Mean To Fall In Love With Her

Falling In Love

When I Saw Her I Was In Love With Her. Everything Turned Over Inside Of Me. She Looked Toward The Door, Saw There Was No One, Then She Sat On The Side Of The Bed And Leaned Over And Kissed Me.

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.

I Was A Little Drunk. Not Drunk In Any Positive Sense But Just Enough To Be Careless.

Up The Road, In His Shack, The Old Man Was Sleeping Again. He Was Still Sleeping On His Face And The Boy Was Sitting By Him Watching Him. The Old Man Was Dreaming About The Lions.

Hunger Is Good Discipline.

Good Discipline

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

'safety', The Wife Of Pablo Said. 'there Is No Such Thing As Safety. There Are So Many Seeking Safety Here Now That They Make A Great Danger. In Seeking Safety Now You Lose All.'

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.

Show The Readers Everything, Tell Them Nothing.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

You're Beautiful, Like A May Fly.

You Re Beautiful

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.

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.

The Hard Part About Writing A Novel Is Finishing It.

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

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.

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.

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

Writing Is The Clumsy Attempt To Find Symbols For Wordlessness.

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

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

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.

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

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

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?

As Long As You Can Start, You Are All Right. The Juice Will Come.

There Is No Night Life In Spain. They Stay Up Late But They Get Up Late. That Is Not Night Life. That Is Delaying The Day.

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.

The Questioners Had That Beautiful Detachment And Devotion To Stern Justice Of Men Dealing In Death Without Being In Any Danger Of It.

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.

Wine Is One Of The Most Civilized Things In The World And One Of The Most Natural Things Of The World That Has Been Brought To The Greatest Perfection, And It Offers A Greater Range For Enjoyment And Appreciation Than, Possibly, Any Other Purely Sensory Thing.

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

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

Never Mistake Movement For Action

Everything Is Your Fault If You're Any Damn Good.

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.

If A Writer Stops Observing, He Is Finished.

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

The Only Thing That Can Ruin A Good Day Is People.

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

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.

For Luck You Carried A Horse Chestnut And A Rabbit?s Foot In Your Right Pocket. The Fur Had Been Worn Off The Rabbit?s Foot Long Ago And The Bones And The Sinews Were Polished By The Wear. The Claws Scratched In The Lining Of Your Pocket And You Knew Your Luck Was Still There.

Worry Destroys The Ability To Write. Ill Health Is Bad In The Ratio That It Produces Worry Which Attacks Your Subconscious And Destroys Your Nerves.

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.

The Telephone And Visitors Are The Work Destroyers.

I've Seen A Lot Of Patriots And They All Died Just Like Anybody Else If It Hurt Bad Enough And Once They Were Dead Their Patriotism Was Only Good For Legends; It Was Bad For Their Prose And Made Them Write Bad Poetry. If You Are Going To Be A Great Patriot I.e. Loyal To Any Existing Order Of Government (not One Who Wishes To Destroy The Existing For Something Better) You Want To Be Killed Early If Your Life And Works Won't Stink.

There Is No Rule On How To Write.

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.

You'll Lose It, If You Talk About It

Work Every Day. No Matter What Has Happened The Day Or Night Before, Get Up And Bite On The Nail.

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.

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

A Cat Has Absolute Honesty.

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.

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.

This Looking And Not Seeing Things Was A Great Sin, I Thought, And One That Was Easy To Fall Into. It Was Always The Beginning Of Something Bad And I Thought That We Did Not Deserve To Live In The World If We Did Not See It.

Any Man Who Eats Dessert Is Not Drinking Enough.

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

Life Is Pain, So Live It Up While You Can.

I Am Trying To Make, Before I Get Through, A Picture Of The Whole World--or As Much Of It As I Have Seen. Boiling It Down Always, Rather Than Spreading It Out Too Thin. (on Writing.)

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

However You Make Your Living Is Where Your Talent Lies.

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

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.

What I Learned Constructive About Women, Not Just Ethics Like Never Blame Them If They Pox You Because Somebody Poxed Them And Lots Of Times They Don't Even Know They Have It — That's In The First Reader For Squares — Is, No Matter How They Get, Always Think Of Them The Way They Were On The Best Day They Ever Had.

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.

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

Falling In Love

Never Fall In Love

To Have Come On All This New World Of Writing, With Time To Read In A City Like Paris Where There Was A Way Of Living Well And Working, No Matter How Poor You Were, Was Like Having A Great Treasure Given To You.

I May Not Be As Stong As I Think, But I Know Many Tricks And I Have Resolution.

For What Are We Born If Not To Aid One Another?

Before You Quit, You Have To Try

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.

Riding Your Bike

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 Have Noticed That Doctors Who Fail In The Practice Of Medicine Have A Tendency To Seek One Another's Company And Aid In Consultation.

Practice Of Medicine

Farewell To Arms

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

For A True Writer Each Book Should Be A New Beginning, Where He Tries Again For Something That Is Beyond Attainment.

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.

Every Damn Thing Is Your Own Fault, If You Are Any Good.

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.

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

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.

I Believe That Basically You Write For Two People; Yourself To Try To Make It Absolutely Perfect; Or If Not That Then Wonderful. Then You Write For Who You Love Whether She Can Read Or Write Or Not And Whether She Is Alive Or Dead.

Write Drunk; Edit Sober.

It's None Of Their Business That You Have To Learn How To Write. Let Them Think You Were Born That Way.

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.

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

I Never Knew Of A Morning In Africa When I Woke That I Was Not Happy.

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.

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.

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

Everything You Have Is To Give. Thou Art A Phenomenon Of Philosophy And An Unfortunate Man.

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.

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.

No Tears In The Writer, No Tears In The Reader.

I'm Not Advocating The Strenuous Life For Everyone Or Trying To Say It's The Choice Form Of Life. Anyone Who's Had The Luck Or Misfortune To Be An Athlete Has To Keep His Body In Shape. The Body And Mind Are Closely Coordinated. Fattening Of The Body Can Lead To Fattening Of The Mind. I Would Be Tempted To Say That It Can Lead To Fattening Of The Soul, But I Don't Know Anything About The Soul.

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.

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.

No Weapon Has Ever Settled A Moral Problem. It Can Impose A Solution But It Cannot Guarantee It To Be A Just One.

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.

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.

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?

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

To Stay In Places And To Leave, To Trust, To Distrust, To No Longer Believe And Believe Again, . . . To Watch The Snow Come, To Watch It Go, To Hear Rain On A Tent, To Know Where I Can Find What I Want.

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

Farewell To Arms

The Best People Possess A Feeling For Beauty, The Courage To Take Risks, The Discipline To Tell The Truth, The Capacity For Sacrifice. Ironically, Their Virtues Make Them Vulnerable; They Are Often Wounded, Sometimes Destroyed.

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.

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.

I'm Not Going To Get Into The Ring With Tolstoy.

For Him It Was A Dark Passage Which Led To Nowhere, Then To Nowhere, Then Again To Nowhere, Once Again To Nowhere, Always And Forever To Nowhere, Heavy On The Elbows In The Earth To Nowhere, Dark, Never Any End To Nowhere, Hung On All Time Always To Unknowing Nowhere, This Time And Again For Always To Nowhere, Now Not To Be Borne Once Again Always And To Nowhere, Now Beyond All Bearing Up, Up, Up And Into Nowhere, Suddenly, Scaldingly, Holdingly All Nowhere Gone And Time Absolutely Still And They Were Both There, Time Having Stopped And He Felt The Earth Move Out And Away From Under Them.

I Always Try To Write On The Principle Of The Iceberg. There Is Seven-eighths Of It Underwater For Every Part That Shows.

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

I Love You For All That You Are, All That You Have Been, All That You're Yet To Be.

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.

God Knows, People Who Are Paid To Have Attitudes Toward Things, Professional Critics, Make Me Sick; Camp-following Eunuchs Of Literature.

There Is No Night Life In Spain. They Stay Up Late But They Get Up Late. That Is Not Night Life. That Is Delaying The Day. Night Life Is When You Get Up With A Hangover In The Morning. Night Life Is When Everybody Says What The Hell And You Do Not Remember Who Paid The Bill. Night Life Goes Round And Round And You Look At The Wall To Make It Stop. Night Life Comes Out Of A Bottle And Goes Into A Jar. If You Think How Much Are The Drinks It Is Not Night Life.

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

No Catalogue Of Horrors Ever Kept Men From War. Before The War You Always Think That It's Not You That Dies. But You Will Die, Brother, If You Go To It Long Enough.

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

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.

Until You're Grown-up They Send You To Reform School. After You're Grown-up They Send You To The Penitentiary.

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