A Moveable Feast

by Ernest Hemingway

The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

He liked the works of his friends, which is beautiful as loyalty but can be disastrous as judgment.

For a poet he threw a very accurate milk bottle.

While I had been angry I had demoted him from Scott to Fitzgerald.