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...
Blow, blow, ye western wind . . . Christ, that my love were in my arms and I in my bed again. That my love Catherine. That my sweet love Catherine down might rain. Blow her again to me.
Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the windows open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very sma...
Any man's life, told truly, is a novel...
And you treat me wonderfully and keep all your promises.
All supposed exterior signs of danger that a bull gives, such as pawing the ground, threatening with his horns, or bellowing are forms of bluffing. They are warnings given in order that combat may be...
Ես միշտ էլ վախեցած եմ, բայց հիմա այնքան եմ քեզ համար վախենում, որ ինձ մոռացել եմ:
We’re no kin, Thomas Hudson said. We just used to live in the same town and make some of the same mistakes.
They are strong, David said. But there’s a strong wind today and we drink according to the wind.
The questioners had that beautiful detachment and devotion to stern justice of men dealing in death without being in any danger of it.
One cat just leads to another.[Letter from Finca Vigia, Cuba, to his first wife, Elizabeth Hadley Richardson (1943).]
My heart's broken,' he thought. 'If I feel this way my heart must be broken.
Ma arvasin, et olin juba kõige eest maksnud. Mitte nii nagu naised, kes aina maksavad ja maksavad ja maksavad. Ei mingit tasu ja karistuse põhimõtet. Lihtne väärtuste vahetus. Sa annad midagi ära ja s...
Love is the wanting to do things for.
It 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 s...
It was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening. Under the wine I lost the disgusted f...
It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars were out. He did not know the name of...
It is the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is...
It could be worse,' Passini said respectfully. There is nothing worse than war. Defeat is worse. I do not believe it, Passini said still respectfully. What is defeat? You go home.
In writing there are many secrets too. Nothing is ever lost no matter how it seems at the time and what is left out will always show and make the strength of what is left in.