Quotes on Moveable Feast

Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.

I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.

They say the seeds of what we will do are in all of us, but it always seemed to me that in those who make jokes in life the seeds are covered with better soil and with a higher grade of manure.

As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.

Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there.

Since I had started to break down all my writing and get rid of all facility and try to make instead of describe, writing had been wonderful to do.

The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

All things truly wicked start from innocence.