After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love.
Ernest HemingwayBefore we take to the sea, we walk on land. . . Before we create, we must understand. . .
Ernest HemingwayYou expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.
Ernest Hemingway