You're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed by sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.
More from Ernest Hemingway
This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.
Permalink to quote #65 All thinking men are atheists.
Permalink to quote #67 All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.
Permalink to quote #64