The Old Man and the Sea

I must get him alongside this time, he thought. I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You’re good for ever.

It is a curious fact of literary history that a story which describes the loss of a gigantic prize provided the author with the greatest prize of his career.

the flag of permanent defeat.

And now he has jumped more than a dozen times and filled the sacks along his back with air and he cannot go down deep to die where I cannot bring him up.

“I wish I had a stone for the knife,” the old man said after he had checked the lashing on the oar butt. “I should have brought a stone.” You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. “You give me much good counsel,”