Book: For whom the bell tolls

And are you asking me to be more serious? After what he did last night? When you had to kill a man and instead engaged in what you were doing? You had to kill a man, not to make a new one!

Come on. The woman waiting as a whore waits for profitable production.

The longing is bad. Melancholy presages or desertion or treason. It is the longing precedes betrayal.

He was just a coward, and it is the greatest misfortune which can befall a man.

Have to be awfully occupied with yourself to do a thing like that.

And I love the smell, as now. This, and the smell of freshly cut clover and trampled sage, when you go behind the herd, the smell of smoke from burning wood and autumn foliage. That smell must be the longing for the homeland - the smell of smoke, rising above the heaps of leaves that burn in the fall on the streets in Missoula.

... when you know the country, you rarely like what they write about it in Newspapers and magazines...

Ugly crying, the whole twitch. Men always as if they have some kind of animal sitting in and shakes them.

While I was starving, I learned a much better understanding of Cezanne and truly suffered, as he created his landscapes. I often said to myself, not starving it when I was working. But decided that he probably just forgot to eat. These are not too common thoughts-open come to mind from insomnia or malnutrition. Later I decided that Cezanne still experiencing hunger, but different.

Die - this word meant nothing, it does not cause any picture before my eyes and did not inspire fear. But life is meant Niva, wavering in the wind on a hillside. To live meant hawk in the sky. To live meant a clay pitcher of water after threshing, when the floor is dust and chaff scatters in all directions. To live meant cool the horse's flanks, short schenkel, and the carbine across the saddle, and hill, and valley, and the river and the trees along the shore, and the far end of the valley, and the mountains behind.

I love you as much as I love everything we stand for. I love you as much as I love freedom, and human dignity, and the right of everyone to work and not starve. I love thee as I love Madrid that we protect, and how I love all my comrades that died in this war.

It would be good now to be back down at home and that the war was over. But you have no home anymore. First, we need to win the war, before this would not be coming back.

No life, no happiness, no easy joys of life, no children, no home, no bath, no clean pajamas, no morning newspaper, no waking up together, feeling that she's around and you're not alone. No. None of this will be.

And if I don't exist what is called a very long time, or until the end of days, or forever, but only now, well, then, it is necessary to appreciate what is now, and I'm happy.