Sublime

Hemingway had disliked Zelda since their first meeting in Paris, when he gazed into her “hawk’s eyes” and saw a rapacious spirit. He estimated that 90 percent of Scott’s problems were her fault,

dessus tout. Tout au long de ce printemps et au début de l’été, Scott s’efforça de travailler, mais il n’y parvint que par à-coups. Quand je le voyais, il était toujours gai, parfois désespérément gai, et il faisait de bonnes plaisanteries et c’était un bon compagnon. Quand il traversait de très mauvais moments, je l’écoutais me parler de ses diffi

I’m at another club, Rampage (but pronounce it French), and I find a pseudo-hot-looking Valley bitch and she seems really slow and stupid like she’s completely stoned or drunk or something but she’s got great tits and a pretty hot body, not too heavy, maybe a little too skinny, and basically her emptiness thrills me.

Once Hemingway signed with Scribners, Max Perkins thereupon became the moderator in the literary friendship between Ernest and Scott.

For Paris is, according to its legend, the city where everyone loses his head, and his morals, lives through at least one histoire d’amour, ceases, quite, to arrive anywhere on time, and thumbs his nose at the Puritans—the city, in brief, where all become drunken on the fine old air of freedom. This legend, in the fashion of legends, has this much

So, as in Death in the Afternoon, he writes beautifully, and then immediately turns it off with a flippant comment, or a deliberate obscenity.

Je t’ai vue, mignonne, et tu m’appartiens désormais, quel que soit celui que tu attends et même si je ne dois plus jamais te revoir, pensais-je. Tu m’appartiens et tout Paris m’appartient, et j’appartiens à ce cahier et à ce crayon.

He drank and smoked too much, he had no money, he had the neuroses of a beta male and the know-it-all confidence of an alpha male.