[b]Ernest Hemingway
I did not say anything. I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain. We had heard them, sometimes standing in the rain almost out of earshot, so that only the shouted words came through, and had read them on proclamations that were slapped up by billposters over other proclamations, now for a long time, and I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stock yards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it.[/b]
Words: Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.
By “guts” I mean, grace under pressure.
I know: Let’s decide what it really means.
I’d like to destroy you a few times in bed.
Although [obviously] that can be taken in different ways.
There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.
You know, in a fair fight.
Or, sure, maybe not.
Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.
From [of all things] The Old Man And The Sea.
You never kill anyone you want to kill in a war, he said to himself.
In my war that was called “fragging”.