Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share Image
“But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share Image
Wine is one of the most civilized things in the world and one of the most natural things of the world that has been… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“There was no wind, and, outside now of the warm air of the cave, heavy with smoke of both tobacco and charcoal, with the… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“It was not brilliant bull-fighting. It was only perfect bull-fighting.” — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
One cat just leads to another. The place is so damned big it doesn't really seem as though there were many cats until you… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
Creation's probably overrated. After all, God made the world in only six days and rested on the seventh. — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
What is moral is what you feel good after, and what is immoral is what you feel bad after. — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“We drove out along the coast road. There was the green of the headlands, the white, red-roofed villas, patches of forest, and the ocean… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
As a Nobel Prize winner I cannot but regret that the award was never given to Mark Twain, nor to Henry James, speaking only… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
I read my own books sometimes to cheer me when it is hard to write, and then I remember that it was always difficult,… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“You find everything on earth at Harry's." "Yes, my Colonel. Except, possibly, happiness." "I'll damn well find happiness, too," the Colonel assured him. "Happiness,… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“No. It's bad for me. Cole Porter wrote the words and the music. This knowledge that you're going mad for me.” — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
“everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive, he thought. I… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share
