In the chair, watching the fire and thinking of Pop and how sad it was that he was not immortal, and how happy I was that he had been able to be with us so much, that we’d been lucky enough to have three or four things together that were like the Old Days along with just the happiness of being together and talking and joking, I fell asleep.
The gravel paths were moist and the grass was wet with dew. The battery fired twice and the air came each time like a blow and shook the window and made the front of my pajamas flap. I could see the guns but they were evidently firing directly over us. It was a nuisance to have them there but it was a comfort that they were no bigger.
I misjudged you,” Harvey said. “You’re not a moron. You’re only a case of arrested development.
She did not like to hear the really bad nor tragic things, but no one does, and having seen them I did not care to talk about them unless she wanted to know how the world was going. She wanted to know the gay part of how the world was going; never the real, never the bad.
When I had written a novel before, the one that had been lost in the bag stolen at the Gare de Lyon, I still had the lyric facility of boyhood that was as perishable and as deceptive as youth was. I knew that it was probably a good thing that it was lost, but I knew too that I must write a novel.
I do not think they believed a word of the story and I thought it was silly but it was like a law-court. You did not want something reasonable, you wanted something technical and then stuck to it without explanations.
Still one does not forget people because they are dead...
Our pleasures, which were those of being in love, were as simple and still as mysterious and complicated as a simple mathematical formula that can mean happiness of can mean the end of the world.
Nothing is ever lost no matter how it seems at the time and what is left out will always show and make the strength of what is left in.
So we sat and thought deeply for awhile.
I want us to be all mixed up. I don’t want you to go away.
He worried about everyone and in the time when I first knew him he was most worried about T. S. Eliot who, Ezra told me, had to work in a bank in London and so had insufficient time and bad hours to function as a poet.
In the early days writing in Paris I would invent not only from my own experience but from the experiences and knowledge of my friends and all the people I had known, or met since I could remember, who were not writers. I was very lucky always that my best friends were not writers and to have known many intelligent people who were articulate.
The sadness will dissipate as the sun rises. It is like a mist.
She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after everyone else’s eyes in the world would have stopped looking.
Remember the woods were God’s first temples.
So if you love this girl as much as you say you do, you had better love her very hard and make up in intensity what the relation will lack in duration and in continuity.
And it’s a lot of fun, too, to be in love.” “Do you think so?” her eyes looked flat again. “I don’t mean fun that way. In a way it’s an enjoyable feeling.” “No,” she said. “I think it’s hell on earth.” “It’s good to see each other.” “No. I don’t think it is.” “Don’t you want to?” “I have to.
You learned the dry-mouthed, fear-purged, purging ecstasy of battle and you fought that summer and that fall for all the poor in the world, against all tyranny, for all the things you believed and for the new world you had been educated into.
Who’s she?” Georgette turned to me. “Do I have to talk to her?