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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.
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Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.
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I've been in love (truly) with five women, the Spanish Republic and the 4th Infantry Division.
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I say that is wine," Brett held up her glass. "We ought to toast something. 'Here's to royalty.'" "This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. you don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. you lose the taste." Brett's glass was empty.
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All bad writers are in love with the epic.
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A man does not exist until he is drunk.
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For her everything was red, orange, gold-red from the sun on the closed eyes, and it all was that color, all of it, the filling, the possessing, the having, all of that color, all in a blindness of that color." - Ernest Hemingway.
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Cowardice, as distinguished from panic, is almost always simply a lack of ability to suspend the functioning of the imagination.
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They can't yank a novelist like they can a pitcher. A novelist has to go the full nine, even if it kills him.
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It's a town you come to for a short time.
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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.
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The house was built on the highest part of the narrow tongue of land between the harbor and the open sea. It had lasted through three hurricanes and it was built solid as a ship.
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You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.
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Now he would never write the things that he had saved to write until he knew enough to write them well. Well, he would not have to fail at trying to write them either. Maybe you could never write them, and that was why you put them off and delayed the starting. Well he would never know, now.
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I suppose if a man has something once, always something of it remains.
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We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.
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As to Hemingway, I read him for the first time in the early 'forties, something about bells, balls and bulls, and loathed it.
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Never sit a table when you can stand at the bar.
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You ought to be ironical the minute you get out of bed. You ought to wake up with your mouth full of pity.
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I am drunk, seest thou? When I am not drunk I do not talk. You have never heard me talk much. But an intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend his time with fools.
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Because Fascism is a lie, it is condemned to literary sterility. And when it is past, it will have no history, except the bloody history of murder.
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In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you'll dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it to the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused.
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We think. We are not peasants. We are mechanics. But even the peasants know better than to believe in a war. Everybody hates war. There is a class that control a country that is stupid and down not realise anything and never can. That is why we have this war. Also they make money out of it.
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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.