He's so damned nice and he's so awful. He's my sort of thing.
Catalog
Ernest Hemingway
Ernest Miller Hemingway (July 21, 1899 – July 2, 1961) was an American novelist, short story writer, and journalist. His economical and understated style had a strong influence on 20th-century fiction, while his life of adventure and his public image influenced later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1954. He published seven novels, six short story collections, and two non-fiction works. Additional works, including three novels, four short story collections, and three non-fiction works, were published posthumously. Many of his works are considered classics of American literature. Hemingway was raised in Oak Park, Illinois. After high school, he reported for a few months for The Kansas City Star, before leaving for the Italian front to enlist with the World War I ambulance drivers. In 1918, he was seriously wounded and returned home. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his novel A Farewell to Arms (1929
I don’t hate you. I just dislike you. I dislike you thoroughly and I’m through with you.
Isn’t it rotten? There isn’t any use my telling you I love you.
I can’t help it. It’s tearing me all up inside. I’m like that all through. I can’t help it.
Oh, darling, please stay by me. Please stay by me and see me through this.
We never talked for very long at a time. It was simply the pleasure of discovering what we each felt.
We never talked for very long at a time. It was simply the pleasure of discovering what we each felt.
I can’t help it. It’s tearing me all up inside. I’m like that all through. I can’t help it.
We never talked for very long at a time. It was simply the pleasure of discovering what we each felt.
Isn’t it rotten? There isn’t any use my telling you I love you.
She looked away. I thought she was looking for another cigarette. Then I saw she was crying. I could feel her crying. Shaking and crying. She wouldn’t look up. I put my arms around her.
You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.
I am always in love.
You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.
I heard them talking but I did not listen.
Isn’t it rotten? There isn’t any use my telling you I love you.
This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.
All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.
You're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed by sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafés.
'Listen Jake... don't you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you are not taking advantage of it?'