Was sitting with G. Black in the Greensboro airport this past Monday. Hemingway's posthumous, 1964 reminiscence of living as an ex-patriate in Paris during the 20s was brought up. Specifically, the short story - 'A Matter of Measurements' - in which Fitzgerald, over a drunken lunch, confesses to Hemingway his perceived doubts of being able to please Zelda. She has broken him as a man. Hemingway gets pissed. His friend is hurting. "Zelda just wants to destroy you."
I didn't think this sounded right as the concluding statement to the memoir, and in fact, it is the penultimate piece (after consulting my old, note-ridden copy from college.)
'There Is Never Any End to Paris' is the way to go out.
"All things truly wicked start from an innocence. So you live day by day and enjoy what you have and do not worry. You lie and hate it and it destroys you and everyday is more dangerous, but you live day to day as in a war...
That was the end of the first part of Paris. Paris was never to be the same again although it was always Paris and you changed as it changed...
There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy."
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