The words of a dead man are modified in the guts of the living.
Dance, dance, dance till you drop.
Hemingway is terribly limited. His technique is good for short stories, for people who meet once in a bar very late at night, but do not enter into relations. But not for the novel.
Happy the hare at morning, for she cannot read The hunter's waking thoughts.
I know nothing, except what everyone knows - if there when Grace dances, I should dance.
To make one, there must be two.