The Sun Also Rises

by Ernest Hemingway

“One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever . . . The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose . . . The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits . . . All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.” —Ecclesiastes

I mistrust all frank and simple people, especially when their stories hold together,

“I can’t stand it to think my life is going so fast and I’m not really living it.”

“Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already?”

You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that.”

She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after everyone else’s eyes in the world would have stopped looking. She looked as though there were nothing on earth she would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of so many things.

It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.

“This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don’t want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.”

That was morality; things that made you disgusted afterward. No, that must be immorality.