You never kill anyone you want to kill in a war, he said to himself.

Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: American

Some suggestions for you :

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at the typewriter and bleed.

All thinking men are atheists.

God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her. I had not wanted to fall in love with any one. But God knows I had and I lay on the bed in the room of the hospital in Milan and all sorts of things went through my head but I felt wonderful...

We all take a beating every day, you know, one way or another.

It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was.

IT WAS NOW LUNCH TIME AND THEY WERE all sitting under the double green fly of the dining tent pretending that nothing had happened.

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.

She said nothing is done to oneself that one does not accept and that if I loved someone it would take it all away.

It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.

I even read aloud the part of the novel that I had rewritten, which is about as low as a writer can get and much more dangerous for him as a writer than glacier skiing unroped before the full winter snowfall has set over the crevices.

When I saw her I was in love with her. Everything turned over inside of me. She looked toward the door, saw there was no one, then she sat on the side of the bed and leaned over and kissed me.

Then they were together so that as the hand on the watch moved, unseen now, they knew that nothing could ever happen to the one that did not happen to the other, that no other thing could happen more than this; that this was all and always; this was what had been and now and whatever was to come. This, that they were not to have, they were having.

Now, feel. I am thee and thou art me and all of one is the other. And feel now. Thou hast no heart but mine.