Sublime

I phoned Ernest and he urged me to conclude my royal interrogatory and come to the Gritti. He said, “I have a new Lancia with a good professional driver to take us over the Alps and along the Corniche to Pamplona for the Feria of San Fermín. Would like your company on the trip. I’m beat up from those kites falling all over Africa.” In the past he h

“I should have brought a stone.” You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.

“All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.”

“The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see,” the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea. “I missed you,” he said. “What did you catch?”

Paris est une fête, publié de manière posthume en 1964, concerne les années parisiennes 1921 à 1926.

Ernest Hemingway said the book was “something over 60% shit.”

“Harold jumped up, overturning his chair, threatening to knock my block off. Duff took over. She told us not to get feisty. Told me I should go and take my books with me. ‘We are who we are,’ she said. ‘We used to be your friends.’

La plupart des jeunes auteurs écrivent à partir de leur expérience, mais Hemingway, comme il le suggère dans son bref aperçu, s’inspirait beaucoup d’autres sources de première voire de seconde main. Il mentionne, par exemple, avoir interviewé des soldats de la Première Guerre mondiale, et sa maîtrise de la fiction historique n’est jamais aussi mani

I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You’re good for ever.