The grain-fields went up the hillsides. Now as we went higher there was a wind blowing the grain.
Ernest HemingwayAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Writer
- Nationality: american
- Born: July 21, 1899
- Died: July 2, 1961
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Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name thee my all. Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on every side, and come to thee in everything, and offer to thee my love every moment. Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide thee. Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with thy will, and thy purpose is carried out in my life--and that is the fetter of thy love.
Rabindranath Tagore