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.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: death morning dying boat rowboat
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.
Ernest HemingwayIt was not so much that he lied as that there was no truth to tell. He had had his life and it was over and then he went on living it again with different people and more money, with the best of the same places, and some new ones.
You kept from thinking and it was all marvelous. You were equipped with good insides so that you did not go to pieces that way, the way most of them had, and you made an attitude that you cared nothing for the work you used to do, now that you could no longer do it. But, in yourself, you said that you would write about these people; about the very rich; that you were really not of them but a spy in their country; that you would leave it and write of it and for once it would be written by some one who knew what he was writing of. But he would never do it, because each day of not writing, of comfort, of being that which he despised, dulled his ability and softened his will to work so that, finally, he did no work at all.
You don't have to destroy me. Do you? ...
Ernest HemingwayHe had loved too much, demanded too much, and he wore it all out.
Ernest HemingwayNone of it was important now. The wind blew it out of his head.
Ernest HemingwayThere were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Certain numbers were the same way and certain dates and these with the names of the places were all you could say and have them mean anything. 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.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: names dignity places
I don't like to write like God. It is only because you never do it, though, that the critics think you can't do it.
Ernest HemingwayMy heart's broken,' he thought. 'If I feel this way my heart must be broken.
Ernest HemingwayStichwörter: heartbreak
In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.
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