Ernest Hemingway was an American novelist and journalist.  He only lived for 61 years.  In that time, he had many fine things to say.

Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt use it – don’t cheat with it. Be as faithful to it as a scientist – but don’t think anything is of any importance because it happens to you or anyone belonging to you.

To be with the hurt, not to will it away.  “Let’s be friends, you and me.  Let’s be cozy.”

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.

My sorrows gently nudge my eyes open.  They’re then able to take in the entire painting … the bright reds and the dull browns.  In my better moments I am home in all of it.

The way to make people trustworthy is to trust them.

Yes.  I can’t change you.  I can show you me.  And perhaps you’ll follow.

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

Once I failed an entire university year.  Once I was fired.  Once I lay dying on a downtown Vancouver bench, only to be rescued by a taxi driver.  Wounded again and again.  (But I’m still here!)

As a writer, you should not judge, you should understand.

I see your foibles. They look a lot like mine.

The real reason for not committing suicide is because you always know how swell life gets again after the hell is over.

On we roll … cut by the brambles and swept into the melody.

***

Thanks, Ernest, for the reminders

Wish I had known you