“ How little we know of what there is to know. I wish that I were going to live a long time instead of going to die today because I have learned much about life in these four days; more, I think than in… Ernest Hemingway
“ There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games. Ernest Hemingway
“ A writer's problem does not change. He himself changes and the world he lives in changes but his problem remains the same. It is always how to write truly and, having found what is true, to project it… Ernest Hemingway
“ For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can. Ernest Hemingway
“ Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor. Ernest Hemingway
“ We were no longer, technically, children although in many ways I am quite sure that we were. Childish has become a term of contempt. Don't be childish, darling. I hope to Christ I am. Don't be childis… Ernest Hemingway
“ Then there is the other secret. There isn't any symbolysm [sic]. The sea is the sea. The old man is an old man. The boy is a boy and the fish is a fish. The shark are all sharks no better and no worse… Ernest Hemingway
“ Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into n… Ernest Hemingway
“ As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their… Ernest Hemingway
“ A writer of fiction is really... a congenital liar who invents from his own knowledge or that of other men. Ernest Hemingway
“ You know it makes one feel rather good deciding not to be a bitch. Yes. It's sort of what we have instead of God. Ernest Hemingway
“ The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too. Ernest Hemingway
