“And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you, the thought.”

“You did not have to like it because you understood it. He could beat anything, he thought, because no thing could hurt him if he did not care”

“He could beat anything, he thought, because no thing could hurt him if he did not care.”

“I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.”

“He is a great fish and I must convince him, he thought. I must never let him learn his strength nor what he could do if he made his run.”

“To go to bed at night in Madrid marks you as a little queer. For a long time your friends will be a little uncomfortable about it. Nobody goes to bed in Madrid until they have killed the night. Appointments with a friend are habitually made for after midnight at the cafe.”

“Now he was proving it again. Each time was a new time and he never thought about the past when he was doing it.”