July 21, 1899: Ernest Hemingway is born.
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love.
Write drunk; edit sober.
There is no friend as loyal as a book.
All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.
All my life I’ve looked at words as though I were seeing them for the first time.
In order to write about life first you must live it.
Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.