Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.
Interpretation
The quote contrasts the concept of dying with the vivid, dynamic experience of living, illustrating the beauty and richness of life.
In this quote, Hemingway emphasizes that while death is a mundane and fear-free experience, life is vibrant and filled with diverse imagery and sensations. He uses metaphors of nature and daily life to paint a picture of living as deeply rewarding and multifaceted, highlighting that our experiences—symbols of life like a field of grain, a hawk in the sky, or a stream—bring color and depth to our existence.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about appreciating life and the beauty around us.
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on.
How did you go bankrupt?" Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.
When you have shot one bird flying you have shot all birds flying. They are all different and they fly in different ways but the sensation is the same and the last one is as good as the first.
There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.
Wine is the most civilized thing in the world.
There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it's like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.
Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read. Fought against it for a minute. Then looked out the window at the rain. And gave over. Put myself entirely in the keep of this rainy morning. Would I live my life over again? Make the same unforgivable mistakes? Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.
I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives.
I have emerged from the tunnel of grief into the light. Life is better. Not the same, but good and getting better all the time.
It has been women who have breathed gentleness and care into the hard progress of humankind.
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