#a moveable feast

[emeralddss]

studying at the library and new books <3

[jonismitchell]

A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway

[more-than-ideas]

a moveable feast

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. 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.

from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway 

[thatwhichdoesnotsuffer]

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. 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.

Ernest Hemingway

[gay-xylophone]

why can’t i fucking think without it hurting

it’s like my brain is being ripped in two every time i try to talk

in other news: i fucking love hemingway right now

[rabbitm00n]

“By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.” - EH, A Moveable Feast

[dailyquotes6563]

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

[la-zu-li]

Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know.

Ernest Hemingway

[littleemptyattik]

This week I finished reading “A Moveable Feast” by Hemingway.

My first introduction to Hemingway was when I lived in the town of Pensacola, Florida. On the boardwalk over the bridge, one of the popular restaurants that overlooked the bay was called Hemingway’s Island Grill. Before eating here, I had heard of Hemingway but never had ready anything by him. The atmosphere of the restaurant—and its menu “inspired by Hemingway's thirst for adventure and great food”—made me curious about the man in the photographs on the walls. Then around the same time, I watched the movie “Midnight in Paris,” and I have to say—Corey Stoll did a fantastic job with the characterization; I can see that now that I’ve read this book.

As I read this book, I could understand why the Hemingway’s restaurant chose its theme, and why Stoll portrayed him with the voice and mannerisms he did. This man was a tough one, no question. And as a woman in a different era, I can’t say I admired his treatment of his wife and son in every chapter. His tone is consistently brash and stern and I could sense some pride and self-centeredness in the mix of qualities he expressed. But at the same time, I admired him for other reasons. He was honest, direct, open, straightforward, and nothing he said or did was a mystery or purposeless. When he reminisced, he could acknowledge his failures and weaknesses in the past. And when he spoke about others, he represented them fairly and sincerely according to his own perspective—the good ones he called good, and the bad ones he called bad, and he always seemed to know which was which from the start. He was positive and as untroubled as he could be, speaking of his times of poverty and struggle with casual candor, not expressing fear of the future.

More than that, he wasn’t an unkind man. He was blunt and proud and a cheater, but he supported his friends and emphasized their best features and was patient with them always. (Looking at you, Scott.) My purpose in reading this was to learn about Paris in the 1920s from the perspective of a man who was there. Hemingway wasn’t just there, he was there. He understood the city and the people and the world in a way that was unique to his own mind. And reading this book was like reading his personal journal. It wasn’t a story; it was a decade in a life. And I really enjoyed getting to know this man’s life. Cheers, Ernest. 

[beljar]

We can walk anywhere and we can stop at some new café where we don't know anyone and nobody knows us and have a drink.

photo from WeHeartIt // photo from My Parisian Life // text from A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway

[litandlifequotes]

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

[f1gtree3]

always thinking about how in “a moveable feast” by hemingway, the weather accompanies the entire plot and how hemingway describes perfectly what it is like to suffer from seasonal depression; complete and utter happiness when the sun starts to shine and you start to increasingly feel a warm breeze blow against your skin; placed opposite to, the absolute sorrow and despair brought upon oneself by the all-consuming darkness and the penetrating cold.

[vessels-for-good-intent]

nine new books on the way

tender is the night

i’d die for you : and other lost stories

a moveable feast

the beautiful and the damned

a third copy of tgg (i’m fine i swear)

this side of paradise

the garden of eden

the last tycoon

careless people : murder, mayhem, and the invention of the great gatsby

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

Our pleasures, which were those of being in love, were as simple and still as mysterious and complicated as a simple mathematical formula that can mean all happiness or can mean the end of the world. That is the sort of happiness you should not tinker with but nearly everyone you knew tried to adjust it.

from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway 

[mysteriouslybeardedharmony]

The last row of chairs

Under the star filled sky

A winter evening

There was a song playing too

The lyrics were something about a person always waiting at a place

My lip stain on your straw

The taste of strawberry shake on our lips

And it was just us again a few summers back

We lived our song

Strawberries and cigarettes will always taste like you