The whiskey warmed his tongue and the back of his throat, but it did not change his ideas any, and suddenly, looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar, he knew that drinking was never going to do any good to him now. Whatever he had now he had, and it was from now on, and if he drank himself unconscious when he woke up it would be there.
Ernest HemingwayNo subject is terrible if the story is true, if the prose is clean and honest, and if it affirms courage and grace under pressure.
Ernest HemingwayThe echoes of beauty you've seen transpire, Resound through dying coals of a campfire.
Ernest Hemingway