Ernest Hemingway

“ Nick sat quiet.
"You come out of it damned well," Bill said. "Now she can marry somebody of her own sort and settle down and be happy. You can't mix oil and water and you can't mix that sort of thing any more than if I'd marry Ida that works for Strattons. She'd probably like it, too."
Nick said nothing. The liquor had all died out of him and left him alone. Bill wasn't there. He wasn't sitting in front of the fire or going fishing tomorrow with Bill and his dad or anything. ”

“ None of it was important now. The wind blew it out of his head. ”

“ We ought to get outdoors."
They stepped out the door. The wind was blowing a gale.
"The birds will lie right down in the grass with this," Nick said.
They struck down toward the orchard.
"I saw a woodcock this morning," Bill said.
"Maybe we'll jump him," Nick said.
"You can't shoot in this wind," Bill said.
Outside now the Marge business was no longer so tragic. It was not even very important. The wind blew everything like that away.
"It's coming right off the big lake," Nick said.
Against the wind they heard the thud of a shotgun.
"That's dad," Bill said. "He's down in the swamp." ”

“ Bill said.
"Is your dad in?" Nick asked.
"No. He's out with the gun. Come on in."
Nick went inside the cottage. There was a big fire in the fireplace. The wind made it roar. Bill shut the door.
"Have a drink?" he said.
He went out to the kitchen and came back with two glasses and a pitcher of water. Nick reached the whisky bottle from the shelf above the fireplace.
"All right?" he said.
"Good," said Bill.
They sat in front of the fire and drank the Irish whisky and water.
"It's got a swell, smoky taste," Nick said, and looked at the fire through the glass. ”

“ "But you always fall for somebody else and then it's all right. Fall for them but don't let them ruin you." ”