And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you, the thought.
After a while, when you are as ugly as I am, as ugly as women can be, then, as I say, after a while the feeling, the idiotic feeling that you are beautiful, grows slowly in one again. It grows like a...
Don't ask me a lot of questions if you don't like the answers
You'll lose it if you talk about it.
You talk like a time-table. Did you have any beautiful adventures?
You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would al...
You did not do so badly for something worthless,' he said to his left hand. 'But there was a moment where I could not find you.
Write the truest sentence you know. Then write another.-- Hemingway's advice to other young writers in A Moveable Feast.
Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?
We all take a beating every day, you know, one way or another.
Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be. But what will happen in all the other days that ever come can depend on what you do today.
To understand is to forgive. That's not true. Forgiveness has been exaggerated. Forgiveness is a Christian idea and Spain has never been a Christian country. It has always had its own special idol wor...
Romero never made any contortions, always it was straight and pure and natural in line. The others twisted themselves like cork-screws, their elbows raised, and leaned against the flanks of the bull a...
Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.
Mice: What is the best early training for a writer?Y.C.: An unhappy childhood.
It came very fast and the sun went a dull yellow and then everything was gray and the sky was covered and the cloud came on down the mountain and suddenly we were in it and it was snow.
If we win here we will win everywhere. The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.
If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about, he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongl...
I wish I had the boy.
I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel, she said. I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.