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I’m not brave any more darling. I’m all broken. They’ve broken me.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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Why, darling, I don't live at all when I'm not with you.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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Bigotry is an odd thing. To be bigoted you have to be absolutely sure you are right and nothing makes that surety and righteousness like continence. Continence is the foe of heresy.
Ernest Hemingway
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Write hard and clear about what hurts.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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Live it up so you can write it down.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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(World War I) was the most colossal, murderous, mismanaged butchery that has ever taken place on earth. Any writer who said otherwise lied, So the writers either wrote propaganda, shut up, or fought.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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I would take anything I love and throw it off the highest cliff you ever saw and not wait to hear it bounce.
Ernest Hemingway
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My father was a deeply sentimental man. And like all sentimental men, he was also very cruel.
Ernest Hemingway
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Experiencing differences is crucial to the human condition. Especially when that difference is over the head, blower powder.
Ernest Hemingway
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There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.
Ernest Hemingway
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The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.
Ernest Hemingway
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My big fish must be somewhere.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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.
Ernest Hemingway
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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
Ernest Hemingway
