I remember that the single most vicious letter I ever read was the letter Hemingway wrote Scribners when they asked him to give a blurb for From Here to Eternity. It's there, in the Selected Letters for all to read, an example of a once great writer at his very worst. I doubt that he ever forgave Scribners for publishing James Jones in the first place. War, as Hemingway saw it, belonged to him.

I suppose you set up reading the Good Book all night-spoken by Woodrow Call

Self-parody is the first portent of age.

Anyway, whacking a surly bartender ain't much of a crime.

The only bookstore I had was the paperback rack at the drugstore.

If a warrior lacked wisdom, courage alone would not keep him alive for long.

But the English are different, and they don't know how to be other than different.