To have come on all this new world of writing […] was like having a great treasure given to you. You could take your treasure with you when you travelled too […] there were always the books, so that you lived in the new world you had found, the snow and the forests and the glaciers and their winter problems […] in the daytime, and at night you could live in the other wonderful world the Russian writers were giving you. At first there were the Russians; then there were all the others. But for a long time there were the Russians.
– Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast
About Me
Upon which many were tumbled.
