Ernest Hemingway

furled around the mast

the older days

“Age is my alarm clock,” the old man said. “Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?”

carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast.

“Fish,” he said, “I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends.”

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated

No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife.

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife.

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.