The hangover: such a cure, she thinks, for overthinking.

The hangover: such a cure, she thinks, for overthinking.

Naomi Wood
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No one ever tells you that: that there’s no method. Writing’s a lawless place.

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Oh no. I split my time between Paris and New York. They're the only places to really live.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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Paris without a good book is like a pretty girl with only one eye.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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Martha thanks Sylvia, gesturing with the book. "Just remember not to try to hard with understanding it, " Sylvia says. "Like people, they're best not to be too thoroughly understood.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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Ernest chose to go, she finally thinks, watching the fire turn the papers black. He loved her but he could not live anymore.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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I want to be a good man, a good writer.""Be one or the other, Ernest, not both.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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No man should be asked to live with so much sadness, and with so little promise of relief.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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The longer I don't write, the more I hurt.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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Talents too many, not enough of any.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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The hangover: such a cure, she thinks, for overthinking.

Naomi Wood, Mrs. Hemingway
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