Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.

Deal with him, Hemingway!

He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a verb in the past tense.

If there is any difficulty in what I write, it is because of the material I use. The thought is always simple.

The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.

That ideal reader suffering from an ideal insomnia.

I confess that I do not see what good it does to fulminate against the English tyranny while the Roman tyranny occupies the palace of the soul.