I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring.
Ernest HemingwayI donโt. I donโt want anybody else to touch you. Iโm silly. I get furious if they touch you.
Ernest HemingwayI used to play cello. My mother kept me out of school a whole year to study music and counterpoint. She thought I had ability, but I was absolutely without talent.
Ernest HemingwayThere is a mystery in all great writing and that mystery does not dissect out. It continues and is always valid.
Ernest Hemingway