Quotes from Ernest Hemingway

I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain.

Pop was her ideal of how a man should be, brave, gentle, comic, never losing his temper, never bragging, never complaining except in a joke, tolerant, understanding, intelligent, drinking a little too much as a good man should, and, to her eyes, very handsome.

If a husband works until six he gets only a little drunk on the way home and does not waste too much. If he works only until five he is drunk every night and one has no money. It is the wife of the working man who suffers from this shortening of hours.

Azt hiszem – gondolta –, hetven órában csakúgy elfér az egész élet, mint hetven évben; de csak ha az ember már kinÅ'tt a gyerekkorból, s ha már s hetven óra kezdetét is gazdag élet elÅ'zte meg.

The east wind is blowing all the water out." "The hell with the east wind," Thomas Hudson said. As he said the words, they sounded like a basic and older blasphemy than any that could have to do with the Christian religion. He knew that he was speaking against one of the great friends of all people who go to sea. So since he had made the blasphemy he did not apologize. He repeated it.

I'm afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it.

There are no man like them when they are good, but when they get bad, there's no world which is worse.

A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair was black as a crow's wing and cut sharply and diagonally across her cheek. I

Oh, darling," she said. "You will be good to me, won't you?" What the hell, I thought.

do you want me to shoot thee, ingles ?... quieres ? it is nothing.

I want nothing. I just want the emptiness to mean something.

Every day brings some disappointment. -No, every day brings new and beautiful illusion. But, everything that's not real in one illusion you can chop it off, like cutting with the blade of a razor.

Az ember végigmegy az életén, s mindenféle helyzetrÅ'l azt hiszi, jelent valamit, s végül kiderül, hogy nem.

The very rich are different from you and me." And how some one had said to Julian, Yes, they have more money.

It was higher than a big scythe blade and a very pale lavender above the dark blue water. It raked back and as the fish swam just below the surface the old man could see his huge bulk and the purple stripes that banded him. His dorsal fin was down and his huge pectorals were spread wide.

that beautiful detachment and devotion to stern justice of men dealing in death without being in any danger of it.

You're going to have things to repent, boy," Mr. John had told Nick. "That's one of the best things there is. You can always decide whether to repent them or not. But the thing is to have them.

and Mary with her wonderful memory for forgetting was happy too and without any problems. She could forget in the loveliest and most complete way of anyone I ever knew. She could carry a fight overnight but at the end of week she could forget it completely and truly. She had a built-in selective memory and it was not built entirely in her favor. She forgave herself in her memory and she forgave you too. She was a very strange girl and I loved her very much.

Creation's probably overrated. After all, God made the world in only six days and rested on the seventh.

With her mouth closed she was a rather pretty girl.

Hem,' he said, and I knew he was a critic now, since, in conversation, they put your name at the beginning of a sentence rather than at the end.

Look at the ugliness. Yet one has a feeling within one that blinds a man while he loves you. You, with that feeling, blind him, and blind yourself. Then, one day, for no reason, he sees you as ugly as you really are and he is not blind anymore and then you see yourself as ugly as he sees you and you lose your man and your feeling...

Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed, he thought. But are they worthy to eat him? No, of course not. There is no one worthy of eating him from the manner of his behaviour and his great dignity.

Ever since they had grounded he had felt, in a way, reprieved. When they had grounded he had felt the heavy bump of the ship as though he were hit himself. He knew it was not rocky as she hit. He could feel that in his hands and through the soles of his feet. But the grounding had come to him as a personal wound. Then, later, had come the feeling of reprieve that a wound brings. He still had the feeling of the bad dream and that it all had happened before.