50 Endings: Hemingway

Posted by @ 11:22 am on August 22nd, 2011

Rinaldi was a disappointing audience.


I got a lot of use for that arm.

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.

“I feel fine,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”

But they could not help his fear because he was up against an older magic now.

First there were birds, then me, then the Greeks, and even the birds got more out of her than I did.

“We’ll have to go,” Nick said. “I can see we’ll have to go.”

Looking back from the mounting grade before the track curved into the hills he could see the firelight in the clearing.

Then he was dead.

When they fired the first volley he was sitting down in the water with his head on his knees.

A short time after he contracted gonorrhea from a sales girl in a loop department store while riding in a taxicab through Lincoln Park.

It was a good thing to have in reserve.

They all came just like that.

The little devil, he thought, I wonder if he lied to me.

The hold over himself relaxed, too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.

In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die.

I am not really a good bull fighter.

Now they would have the run home together.

Seems like when they get started they don’t leave a guy nothing.

He curled up under the blanket and went to sleep.

The priest skipped back onto the scaffolding just before the drop fell.

My word yes a most pleasant business.

And he never told anybody.

“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

Then he would have a little spot of the giant killer and play the radio, you could play the radio so that you could hardly hear it.

What kind of blood is it that makes a man like that?

There were plenty of days coming when he could fish the swamp.

He would go over to the schoolyard and watch Helen play indoor baseball.

Wops, said Boyle, I can tell wops a mile off.

I don’t know why he had to get a malady.

We were splitting it even between us and neither of us liked our share.

But then I guess angry is about the best way that you can be when you attack.

He sat down in the sand and puked and the held a cape over him while the crowd hollered and threw things down into the bull ring.

In the evening they all sat at dinner together in the garden under a plane tree and the hot evening wind blew and Elliot drank white wine and Mrs. Elliot and the girl friend made conversation and they were all quite happy.

We were returning to Paris to set up separate residences.

“All right,” I said.

That and the fact that cats know how to look after themselves was all the good luck the old man would ever have.

The bull could not make up his mind to charge.

“Well,” said George. “You better not think about it.”

“No,” Jack says. “It was nothing.”

Like all Greeks he wanted to go to America.

“You’re too damned smart,” Dr. Wilcox said.

Zurito stood awkwardly, watching.

The photographs did not make much difference to the major because he only looked out the window.

But when Mr. Turner came up to William Campbell’s room at noon William Campbell was sleeping and as Mr. Turner was a man who knew what things in life were very valuable he did not wake him.

He was going back to America and he was very certain about marriage and knew it would fix up everything.

Many must have it.

“The other way from you,” Tom told him.