"There will always be a reason why you meet people. Either you need to change your life or you’re the one that will change theirs."
"I like my hair messy. My love wild. And my sex aggressive. But I’m still a sensitive woman, just with passion."
"Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.”"
Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.
He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.
"I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person."