Posts tagged hemingway

I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.
— Ernest Hemingway (via alecshao)

(Source: tasteforthetasteless)

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you were skipping meals at a time when you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to do it was the Luxembourg gardens where you saw and smelled nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l’Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were heightened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry to when he painted; but I thought it was possible only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway
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Nothing makes me want to go to Paris more.

A typical breakfast at the dining commons (this is after eating hash browns and two pieces of French toast.) Captain crunch, orange juice (not very good), and A Moveable Feast, which takes place in Paris, so we have now come full circle. 

First time going to class not having done the reading this quarter.

I made it about four weeks without getting behind…is there any way to learn to read faster but still retain information? I hate rushing through books, especially when I like them, which I do. Hemingway’s great. I feel so lucky that I get to read him for school and I don’t want to speed through his words. 

The light was changed again and I had missed the change.


A Moveable Feast, Hemingway, pg 84.

I underlined this with pen, pressing hard…I don’t know what else to do to show how much I love and appreciate the sentence. (Picture doesn’t relate to where Hemingway is, but it’s changing light in New York City.)

When I go to Paris,

I will have tea at La Closerie des Lilas. If I really want to be an extreme literary snob, I will bring A Moveable Feast with me. It’ll be perfect. I can already see the pictures.

“The Closerie des Lilas was the nearest good café  when we lived in the flat over the sawmill at 113 rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, and it was one of the best cafés in Paris. It was warm inside in the winter and in the spring and fall it was very fine outside with the tables under the shade of the trees on the side where the statue of Marshal Ney was, and the square, regular tables under the big awnings along the boulevard.”