The first and final thing you have to do in this world is to last it and not be smashed by it.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: inspiration
Maera lay still, his head on his arms, his face in the sand. He felt warm and sticky from the bleeding. Each time he felt the horn coming. Sometimes the bull only bumped him with his head. Once the horn went all the way through him and he felt it go into the sand. Some one had the bull by the tail. They were swearing at him and flopping the cape in his face. Then the bull was gone. Some men picked Maera up and started to run with him toward the barriers through the gate out the passageway around under the grandstand to the infirmary. They laid Maera down on the cot and one of the men went out for the doctor. The others stood around. The doctor came running from the coral where he had been sewing up picador horses. He had to stop and wash his hands. There was a great shouting going on in the grandstand overhead. Maera felt everything getting larger and larger and then smaller and smaller. Then it got larger and larger and larger and then smaller and smaller. Then everything commenced to run faster and faster as when they speed up a cinematograph film. Then he was dead.
Ernest HemingwayWhat 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?
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: writing
They say the seeds of what we will do are in all of us, but it always seemed to me that in those who make jokes in life the seeds are covered with better soil and with a higher grade of manure.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: human-nature a-moveable-feast
I drink to make other people more interesting.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: drinking
Never confuse movement with action.
Ernest HemingwayThat 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.
Ernest HemingwayOh Daddy, can’t you give her something to make her stop screaming?" asked Nick.
"No. I haven’t any anesthetic," his father said. "But her screams are not important. I don’t hear them because they are not important."
-Indian Camp-
The hard part about writing a novel is finishing it.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: writing
Death is like an old whore in a bar--I'll buy her a drink but I won't go upstairs with her
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: fascination
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