By Ernest Hemingway
Hemingway's stories of his existence as an unknown author residing in Paris within the Nineteen Twenties are deeply own, warmly affectionate and entire of wit. He remembers the time while, negative, chuffed and writing in cafes, he chanced on his vocation.
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Extra resources for A Moveable Feast (Scribner Classic)
I know. ' 'we're watching the water now as it hits this buttress. ' we looked and there it all was: our river and our city and the island of our city. 'we're too lucky,' she said. 'i hope chink will come. ' 'we do. ' we walked across the bridge and were on our own side of the river. ' i said. 'us. ' 'of course, tatie. ' so we walked up the rue des saints-peres to the corner of the rue jacob, stopping and looking in the windows at pictures and at furniture. we stood outside of michaud's restaurant reading the posted menu.
But it was not the climbs in the high mountain meadows above the last forest, nor nights coming home to the chalet, nor was it climbing with chink, our best friend, over a high pass into new country. it was not really racing either. it was gambling on horses. but we called it racing. racing never came between us, only people could do that; but for a long time it stayed close to us like a demanding friend. that was a generous way to think of it. i, the one who was so righteous about people and their destructiveness, tolerated this friend that was the falsest, most beautiful, most exciting, vicious, and demanding because she could be profitable.
Miss Stein was very big but not tall and was heavily built like a peasant woman. She had beautiful eyes and a strong German-Jewish face that also could have been friulano and she reminded me of a northern Italian peasant woman with her clothes, her mobile face and her lovely, thick, alive immigrant hair which she wore put up in the same way she had probably worn it in college. she talked all the time and at first it was about people and places. Her companion had a very pleasant voice, was small, very dark, with her hair cut like joan of arc in the boutet de monvel illustrations and had a very hooked nose.