Ernest Hemingway

"Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."

"Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you."

"His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred…"

"Love is just another dirty lie. Love is ergoapiol pills to make me come around because you were afraid to have a baby. Love is quinine and quinine and quinine until I'm deaf with it. Love is that dirt…"

"Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters."

"Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen…"

"For our dead are a part of the earth of Spain now and the earth of Spain can never die."

"Anglers have a way of romanticizing their battles with fish and of forgetting that the fish has a hook in his mouth, his gullet, or his belly and that his gameness is really an extreme of panic in whi…"