After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love.
To kill them teaches nothing,” Anselmo said. “You cannot exterminate them because from their seed comes more with greater hatred. Prison is nothing. Prison only makes hatred.
Let them all go to hell, except the people, and then, when they come to power, we must be dam cautious to see what they will become.
Maybe I have had all my life in three days, he thought. If that’s true I wish we would have spent the last night differently. But last nights are never any good. Last nothings are any good.
Mary’s extremely nice cousin had given us two small square sacking-covered pillows filled with balsam needles. I always slept with mine under my neck or, if I slept on my side, with my ear on it. It was the smell of Michigan when I was a boy and I wished I could have had a sweet-grass basket to keep it in when we traveled and to have under the mosquito net in the bed at night.
But you were living in a milieu of criminals and perverts.” I did not want to argue that, although I thought that I had lived in a world as it was and there were all kinds of people in it and I tried to understand them, although some of them I could not like and some I still hated.
YOU DO NOT know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly.
Tengo miedo de morir.
A Farewell to Arms To.
This government has had much money. Much gold. They will give nothing to their friends. You are a friend. All right. You will do it for nothing and should not be rewarded. But to people representing an important firm or a country which is not friendly but must be influenced – to such people they give much. It is very interesting when you follow it closely.
Just now, I am very busy on a study of Calvo Sotelo. He was a very good fascist; a true Spanish fascist. Franco and these other people are not. I have been studying all of Sotelo’s writing and speeches. He was very intelligent and it was very intelligent that he was killed.
Do people catch a cunning dear without the dogs?
The Purple Land.
Mansfield was like near-beer. It was better to drink water.
You were fighting against exactly what you were doing and being forced into doing to have any chance of winning.
Kill him, yes. Swear him, yes. But don’t wound him.
The Colonel’s Lady and Judy O’Grady are Lesbians under their skin.
Every one needs to talk to some one,” the woman said. “Before we had religion and other nonsense. Now for every one there should be some one to whom one can speak frankly, for all the valor that one could have one becomes very alone.” “We are not alone. We are all together.
Que cosan las rajas, yo entro por los ojos.
We could go into the hotel and register as Doctor and Mrs. Livingstone I presume, he thought.
Your nationalities do not show when you are dead.