Que cosa mas mala es la guerra – What a horrible thing war is.
It was like mentioning one general favourably to another general. You could always mention a general, though, that the general you were talking to had beaten. The general you were talking to would praise the beaten general greatly and go happily into detail on how he had beaten him.
Listen, Jake,” he said, “are you really a Catholic?” “Technically.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know.
On his way back to the living room he passed a mirror in the dining room and looked in it. His face looked strange. He smiled at the face in the mirror and it grinned back. He winked at it and went on. It was not his face but it didn’t make any difference.
Before he came back three doctors came into the room. I have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one another’s company and aid in consultation. A doctor who cannot take out your appendix properly will recommend to you a doctor who will be unable to remove your tonsils with success. These were three such doctors.
Hay que saber apreciar el valor de las cosas y establecer una prioridad de valores.
Why not let up on the bitchery just a little, Margot,” Macomber said, cutting the eland steak and putting some mashed potato, gravy and carrot on the downturned fork that tined through the piece of meat.“I suppose I could,” she said, “since you put it so prettily.
I’m glad I remembered to make it an order, he thought. That helps him out. That takes some of the curse off. I hope it does, anyway.
Everything looked sharp and clear, and the town smelt of the early morning.
They carried me down a long hallway and into a room with drawn blinds. It smelled of new furniture.
I never have any fever. My legs are full of old iron too.” “What do you mean?” “They’re full of trench-mortar fragments, old screws and bedsprings and things.” She shook her head and smiled.
I would always rather not know. Then, no matter what can happen, it was not me that talked.
While he talked you had the impression that he was not looking at you or that he mistook you for some one else.
Then we ate even smaller eels alone cooked in oil and as tiny as bean sprouts and curled in all directions and so tender they disappeared in the mouth without chewing.
Who knows? Since we do not have God here any more, neither His Son nor the Holy Ghost, who forgives? I do not know.
I would watch her while she kept very still and then take out the last two pins and it would all come down and she would drop her head and we would both be inside of it, and it was the feeling of inside a tent or behind a falls.
Why I felt that impulse to devil him I do not know. Of course I do know. I was blind, unforgivingly jealous of what had happened to him. The fact that I took it as a matter of course did not alter that any. I certainly did hate him. I do not think I ever really hated him until he had that little spell of superiority at lunch – that and when he went through all that barbering. So I put the telegram in my pocket. The telegram came to me, anyway.
But in weakness a man can be a great danger.
There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at things differently from when it is light. The hell there isn’t! I.
You paid some way for everything that was any good. I paid my way into enough things that I liked, so that I had a good time. Either you paid by learning about them, or by experience, or by taking chances, or by money. Enjoying living was learning to get your money’s worth and knowing when you had it.
Brett’s not a sadist. She’s just a lovely, healthy wench.