Submitted by Princess_Rhaenyra t3_10gv8db in books
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>His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.
This passage is under the chapter name Scott Fitzgerald, where Hemingway describes his first meeting with Fitzgerald. They way this is written is just so beautiful in my opinion and I love everything about this book and seeing how these famous writers interact with each other.