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" "We’ll wait and see. Come on back in the shade, he said. You mustn’t feel that way.
I don’t feel any way, the girl said. I just know things.
I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do——
Nor that isn’t good for me, she said. I know. Could we have another beer?
All right. But you’ve got to realize——
I realize, the girl said. Can’t we maybe stop talking?
They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table. You’ve got to realize, he said, that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.
Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.
Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want any one else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.
Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.
It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.
Would you do something for me now?
I’d do anything for you.
Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?
Ernest Miller Hemingway (21 July 1899 – 2 July 1961) was an American novelist, short story writer, and journalist. His economical and understated style had a strong influence on 20th-century fiction, while his life of adventure and his public image influenced later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1954. He published seven novels, six short story collections, and two non-fiction works. Additional works, including three novels, four short story collections, and three non-fiction works, were published posthumously. Many of his works are considered classics of American literature.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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Happiness is often presented as being very dull but, he thought, lying awake, that is because dull people are sometimes very happy and intelligent people can and do go around making themselves and everyone else miserable. He had never found happiness dull. It always seemed more exciting than any other thing and capable of as great intensity as sorrow to those people who were capable of having it.
But you have no house and no courtyard to your no-house, he thought. You have no family but a brother who goes to battle tomorrow and you own nothing but the wind and the sun and an empty belly. The wind is small, he thought, and there is no sun. You have four grenades in your pocket but they are only good to throw away. You have a carbine on your back but it is only good to give away bullets. You have a message to give away. And you're full of crap that you can give to the earth, he grinned in the dark. You can anoint it also with urine. Everything you have is to give. Thou art a phenomenon of philosophy and an unfortunate man, he told himself and grinned again.
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