English Language Learners

12:02 AM

> I know one night we talked about it and Catherine said, "But, darling, they'd send me away."
"Maybe they wouldn't."
"They would. They'd send me home and then we would be apart until after the war."
"I'd come on leave."

> "You couldn't get to Scotland and back on a leave. Besides, I won't leave you. What good would it do to marry now? We're really married. I couldn't be any more married."
"I only wanted to for you."
"There isn't any me. I'm you. Don't make up a separate me."
"I thought girls always wanted to be married."

> "They do. But, darling, I am married. I'm married to you. Don't I make you a good wife?"
"You're a lovely wife."
"You see, darling, I had one experience of waiting to be married."
"I don't want to hear about it."
"You know I don't love any one but you. You shouldn't mind because some one else loved me."
"I do."

Damkerng T.

(p.123)

> "You shouldn't be jealous of some one who's dead when you have everything."
"No, but I don't want to hear about it."
"Poor darling. And I know you've been with all kinds of girls and it doesn't matter to me."
"Couldn't we be married privately some way? Then if anything happened to me or if you had a child."

> "There's no way to be married except by church or state. We are married privately. You see, darling, it would mean everything to me if I had any religion. But I haven't any religion."
"You gave me the Saint Anthony."
"That was for luck. Some one gave it to me."
"Then nothing worries you?"

> "Only being sent away from you. You're my religion. You're all I've got."
"All right. But I'll marry you the day you say."
"Don't talk as though you had to make an honest woman of me, darling. I'm a very honest woman. You can't be ashamed of something if you're only happy and proud of it. Aren't you happy?"
"But you won't ever leave me for some one else."

> "No, darling. I won't ever leave you for some one else. I suppose all sorts of dreadful things will happen to us. But you don't have to worry about that."
"I don't. But I love you so much and you did love some one else before."
"And what happened to him?"
"He died."

> "Yes and if he hadn't I wouldn't have met you. I'm not unfaithful, darling. I've plenty of faults but I'm very faithful. You'll be sick of me I'll be so faithful."
"I'll have to go back to the front pretty soon."

Damkerng T.

(p.124)

> "We won't think about that until you go. You see I'm happy, darling, and we have a lovely time. I haven't been happy for a long time and when I met you perhaps I was nearly crazy. Perhaps I was crazy. But now we're happy and we love each other. Do let's please just be happy. You are happy, aren't you? Is there anything I do you don't like? Can I do anything to please you? Would you like me to take down my hair? Do you want to play?"

> "Yes and come to bed."

> "All right. I'll go and see the patients first."

Damkerng T.

(end of chapter 18)

Hello @StoneyB.

I was about to go out just before I saw you come in. :)

StoneyB

Hi DT. Wazzup?

Damkerng T.

Nothing much. Just another chapter of Hemingway's. :)

And now we've gotten both ELL and ELU back.

StoneyB

12:16 AM

I see that! ... Do you do this as a favor to the learner's who follow it? Or for practice typing? Or because the physical activity fixes the language more securely in your mind than just reading it?

Yes, all my playgrounds are open again!

Damkerng T.

Perhaps all of the above. :)

StoneyB

When was Farewell published?

Damkerng T.

At first, my idea was just to learn through my typing.

@StoneyB I think it was from 192x, perhaps 1929.

StoneyB

I hope the SE lawyers don't notice this. Typing the entire book is a tad beyond 'fair use' :)

Damkerng T.

@StoneyB Now I think we've two more people reading it.

StoneyB

12:18 AM

Make that three ... I've been popping in from time to time to catch up. I haven't read any Hemingway since about 1962.

LeSam

is this correct :"Can you escape yourself from something ?" or "Can you escape from something ?"

or is there a shorter way to say it

?

Damkerng T.

@StoneyB If it was from 1929, isn't it available to everyone? (I downloaded it from archive.org.)

StoneyB

Escape from is intransitive, and if you use escape transitively the object is the place you escape from.

LeSam

so remove the "from" anything else ?

Damkerng T.

@LeSam I think you can say You can't escape yourself.

StoneyB

12:22 AM

I'm not sure how archive.org stands with regard to copyright. They do not, I think, publish anything themselves except what they're given, merely provide links to stuff posted by others. The Hemingway may be via Google Books, who have been be

... oops) been making arrangement with publishers about old stuff.

Damkerng T.

Ahh... I thought this book is old enough. Maybe I should check it and the copyright thing a bit.

StoneyB

@LeSam Yes, I miswrote ... the object can be the place or the person or other entity you escape from. You can't escape the Law. You can't escape Death. and as DamkerngT says, you can't escape yourself.

LeSam

can we say : "Can you escape to something ?"

"Can you escape to them ?"

can we say : "Can you escape to something ?"

StoneyB

Escape to freedom! sure.

LeSam

ok thanks

Damkerng T.

12:25 AM

O-oh!

StoneyB

Fugitive slaves followed the Underground Railway to escape to the North.

Damkerng T.

For 2014, this (public domain) means authors who died before 1944.

Hemingway lived 1899-1961.

So it's not public domain. That's for sure.

StoneyB

Well, EH died in 61 or so, but he may have fallen into a crack. US copyright law has been in pretty constant revision for the last fifty years or so, and at one point it was author's life + 50 rather than author's life + 70, as it is now. The only thing you can be sure of is that any text published before 1923 is in public domain. ... Text, mark you; recordings are currently in perpetual copyright in the US.

Damkerng T.

Wikipedia confirms that the book was published in 1929.

StoneyB

I haven't really kept up with copyright law since I was in the theatre, where I was always looking for pieces I could do without having to pay royalties.

LeSam: Are you here to escape something? :)

LeSam

12:33 AM

ahaha

it's just some translations for my game

StoneyB

Computer? Tabletop?

LeSam

phone

or basically

android devices

StoneyB

Ah ... not accessible to me then. I have only a very stupid phone.

LeSam

Perhaps I will do a computer version

StoneyB

Perhaps then I will buy it, if I live long enough to see it come out.

LeSam

12:39 AM

you are that old ?

StoneyB

Not horribly old - I will be 66 soon - but I used to be a programmer and I know a little bit about the difference between planned and actual development cycles :)

@DamkerngT. archive.org claims that the Farewell is 'Public Domain', but does not document the claim.

LeSam

ahhaah

that's right, but I'm on the last run !

Damkerng T.

@StoneyB I couldn't see that claim (I was looking for it), if you found it that's great news!

StoneyB

It's below the text display on the 'Read Online' version ... scroll down to the 'selected metada' section

@LeSam 'Famous last words', we say...meaning what you say on your deathbed.

Damkerng T.

I can see it now! (overjoy) Thank you very much!

LeSam

12:55 AM

@StoneyB I wasn't meant that :/

I mean, I'm on the last rush ! for the dev

StoneyB

Apparently A Farewell To Arms will enter PD in 2025 in the US, but are already in PD in life+50 countries like Canada and Australia -- and Thailand. So you should be safe, but SE could be screwed.

Damkerng T.

Ah, if that's the case then it's probably not good for SE.

StoneyB

@LeSam Oh, I knew what you meant. We need a tag: <irony></irony>

LeSam

ahaha

StoneyB

@DamkerngT. We'll just have to hope Charles Scribner's Sons never finds out.

Damkerng T.

12:59 AM

Should I give it a pause for a while?

StoneyB

Forge ahead. I am not going to tell anybody about it.

Damkerng T.

Ah, thanks.

Thank you very much. And now I think I've to excuse myself.

Have a good evening both @StoneyB and @LeSam!

StoneyB

It has been a pleasure. Enjoy your ... morning?

Damkerng T.

Good bye, and see you soon!

Yes, it's my morning.

I'm a big owl. :)

Have a nice chat and a nice day!

LeSam

thanks you good night

bye

Damkerng T.

11:42 PM

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. Chapter 19.

(p.125)

> The summer went that way.
I do not remember much about the days, except that they were hot and that there were many victories in the papers.
I was very healthy and my legs healed quickly so that it was not very long after I was first on crutches before I was through with them and walking with a cane.

> Then I started treatments at the Ospedale Maggiore for bending the knees, mechanical treatments, baking in a box of mirrors with violet rays, massage, and baths.
I went over there afternoons and afterward stopped at the café and had a drink and read the papers.

> I did not roam around the town; but wanted to get home to the hospital from the café.
All I wanted was to see Catherine.
The rest of the time I was glad to kill.
Mostly I slept in the mornings, and in the afternoons, sometimes, I went to the races, and late to the mechano-therapy treatments.

> Sometimes I stopped in at the Anglo-American Club and sat in a deep leather-cushioned chair in front of the windows and read the magazines.

> They would not let us go out together when I was off crutches because it was unseemly for a nurse to be seen unchaperoned with a patient who did not look as though he needed attendance, so we were not together much in the afternoons.

> Although sometimes we could go out to dinner if Ferguson went along.
Miss Van Campen had accepted the status that we were great friends because she got a great amount of work out of Catherine.

> She thought Catherine came from very good people and that prejudiced her in her favor finally.
Miss Van Campen admired family very much and came from an excellent family herself.

(p.126)

> The hospital was quite busy, too, and that kept her occupied.
It was a hot summer and I knew many people in Milan but always was anxious to get back home to the hospital as soon as the afternoon was over.
At the front they were advancing on the Carso, they had taken Kuk across form Plava and were taking the Bainsizza plateau.

> The West front did not sound so good.
It looked as though the war were going on for a long time.
We were in the war now but I thought it would take a year to get any great amount of troops over and train them for combat.
Next year would be a bad year, or a good year maybe.
The Italians were using up an awful amount of men.

> I did not see how it could go on.
Even if they took all the Bainsizza and Monte San Gabriele there were plenty of mountains beyond for the Austrians.
I had seem them.
All the highest mountains were beyond.
On the Carso they were going forward but there were marshes and swamps down by the sea.

> Napoleon would have whipped the Austrians on the plains.
He never would have fought them in the mountains.
He would have let them come down and whipped them around Verona.
Still nobody was whipping any one on the Western front.
Perhaps wars weren't won any more.
Maybe they went on forever.
Maybe it was another Hundred Years' War.

> I put the paper back on the rack and left the club.
I went down the steps carefully and walked up the Via Manzoni.
Outside the Gran Hotel I met old Meyers and his wife getting out of a carriage.
They were coming back from the races.
She was a big-busted woman in black satin.
He was short and old, with a white mustache and walked flat-footed with a cane.

(p.127)

> "How do you do? How do you do?" She shook hands. "Hello," said Meyers.
"How were the races?"
"Fine. They were just lovely. I had three winners."
"How did you do?" I asked Meyers.
"All right. I had a winner."
"I never know how he does," Mrs. Meyers said. "He never tells me."
"I do all right," Meyers said. He was being cordial. "You ought to come out." While he talked you had the impression that he was not looking at you or that he mistook you for some one else.

> "I will," I said.
"I'm coming up to the hospital to see you," Mrs. Meyer said. "I have some things for my boys. You're all my boys. You certainly are my dear boys."
"They'll be glad to see you."
"These dear boys. You too. You're one of my boys."
"I have to get back," I said.

> "You give my love to all those dear boys. I've got lots of things to bring. I've some of Marsala and cakes."
"Good-by," I said. "They'll be awfully glad to see you."
"Good-by," said Meyers. "You come around to the galleria. You know where my table is. We're all there every afternoon."

Damkerng T.

> I went on up the street.
I wanted to buy something at the Cova to take to Catherine.
Inside, at the Cova, I bought a box of chocolate and while the girl wrapped it up I walked to the bar.
There were a couple of British and some aviators.
I had a martini alone, paid for it, picked up the box of chocolate at the outside counter and walked on home toward the hospital.

(p.128)

> Outside the little bar up the street from the Scala there were some people I knew, a vice-consul, two fellows who studied singing, and Ettore Moretti, an Italian from San Francisco who was in the Italian army.

> I had a drink with them.
One of the singers was named Ralph Simmons, and he was singing under the name of Enrico DelCredo.
I never knew how well he could sing but he was always on the point of something very big happening.

> He was fat and looked shopworn around the nose and mouth as though he had hayfever.
He had come back from singing in Piacenza.
He had sung Tosca and it had been wonderful.

Damkerng T.

> "Of course you've never heard me sing," he said.
"When will you sing here?"
"I'll be at the Scala in the fall."
"I'll bet they throw the benches at you," Ettore said. "I was there. I threw six benches myself."
"You're jump a wop from Frisco."

> "He can't pronounce Italian," Ettore said. "Everywhere he goes they throw the benches at him."
"Piacenza's the toughest house to sing in the north of Italy," the other tenor said. "Believe me that's a tough little house to sing." This tenor's name was Edgar Saunders, and he sang under the name of Edouardo Giovanni.
"I'd like to be there to see them throw the benches at you," Ettore said. "You can't sing Italian."
"He's a nut," said Edgar Saunders. "All he knows how to say is throw benches."

(p.129)

> "That's all they know how to do when you two sing," Ettore said. "Then when you go to America you'll tell about your triumphs at the Scala. They wouldn't let you get by the first note at the Scala."
"I'll sing at the Scala," Simmons said. "I'm going to sing Tosca in October."
"We'll go, won't we, Mac?" Ettore said to the vice-consul. "They'll need sombody to protect them."

> "Maybe the American army will be there to protect them," the vice-consul said. "Do you want another drink, Simmons? You want a drink, Saunders?"
"All right," said Saunders.
"I hear you're going to get the silver medal," Ettore said to me. "What kind of citation you going to get?"

> "I don't know. I don't know I'm going to get it."
"You're going to get it. Oh boy, the girls at the Cova will think you're fine then. They'll all think you killed two hundred Austrians or captured a whole trench by yourself. Believe me, I got to work for my decorations."
"How many have you got, Ettore?" asked the vice-consul.

> "He's got everything," Simmons said. "He's the boy they're running the war for."
"I've got the bronze twice and three silver medals," said Ettore. "But the papers on only one have come through."
"What's the matter with the others?" asked Simmons.
"The action wasn't successful," said Ettore. "When the action isn't successful they hold up all the medals."

> "How many times have you been wounded, Ettore?"
"Three times bad. I got three wound stripes. See?" He pulled his sleeve around. The stripes were parallel silver lines on a black background sewed to the cloth of the sleeve about eight inches below the shoulder.

(p.130)

> "You got one too," Ettore said to me. "Believe me they're fine to have. I'd rather have them than medals. Believe me, boy, when you get three you've got something. You only get one for a wound that puts you three months in the hospital."
"Where were you wounded, Ettore?" asked the vice-consul.

> Ettore pulled up his sleeve. "Here," he showed the deep smooth red scar. "Here on my leg. I can't show you that because I got puttees on; and in the foot. There's dead bone in my foot that stinks right now. Every morning I take new little pieces out and it stinks all the time."
"What hit you?" asked Simmons.

> "A hand-grenade. One of those potato mashers. It just blew the whole side of my foot off. You know those potato mashers?" He turned to me.
"Sure."

> "I saw the son of a bitch throw it," Ettore said. "It knocked me down and I thought I was dead all right but those damn potato mashers haven't got anything in them. I shot the son of a bitch with my rifle. I always carry a rifle so they can't tell I'm an officer."
"How did he look?" asked Simmons.

> "That was the only one he had," Ettore said. "I don't know why he threw it. I guess he always wanted to throw one. He never saw any real fighting probably. I shot the son of a bitch all right."
"How did he look when you shot him?" Simmons asked.
"Hell, how should I know," said Ettore. "I shot him in the belly. I was afraid I'd miss him if I shot him in the head."

(p.131)

> "How long have you been an officer, Ettore?" I asked.
"Two years. I'm going to be a captain. How long have you been a lieutenant?"
"Going on three years."
"You can't be a captain because you don't know the Italian language well enough," Ettore said. "You can talk but you can't read and write well enough. You got to have an education to be a captain. Why don't you go in the American army?"

> "Maybe I will."
"I wish to God I could. Oh, boy, how much does a captain get, Mac?"
"I don't know exactly. Around two hundred and fifty dollars, I think."
"Jesus Christ what I could do with two hundred and fifty dollars. You better get in the American army quick, Fred. See if you can't get me in."
"All right."

> "I can command a company in Italian. I could learn it in English easy."
"You'd be a general," said Simmons.
"No, I don't know enough to be a general. A general's got to know a hell of a lot. You guys think there ain't anything to war. You ain't got brains enough to be a second-class corporal."

> "Thank God I don't have to be," Simmons said.
"Maybe you will if they round up all you slackers. Oh, boy, I'd like to have you two in my platoon. Mac too. I'd make you my orderly, Mac."
"You're a great boy, Ettore," Mac said. "But I'm afraid you're a militarist."

(p.132)

> "I'll be a colonel before the war's over," Ettore said.
"If they don't kill you."
"They won't kill me." He touched the stars at his collar with his thumb and forefinger. "See me do that? We always touch our stars if anybody mentions getting killed."
"Let's go, Sim," said Saunders standing up.

> "All right."
"So long," I said. "I have to go too." It was a quarter to six by the clock inside the bar. "Ciaou, Ettore."
"Ciaou, Fred," said Ettore. "That's pretty fine you're going to get the silver medal."
"I don't know I'll get it."

> "You'll get it all right, Fred. I heard you were going to get it all right."
"Well, so long," I said. "Keep out of trouble, Ettore."
"Don't worry about me. I don't drink and I don't run around. I'm no boozer and whorehound. I know what's good for me."
"So long," I said. "I'm glad you're doing to be promoted captain."

> "I don't have to wait to be promoted. I'm going to be a captain for merit of war. You know. Three stars with the crossed swords and crown above. That's me."
"Good luck."
"Good luck. When you going back to the front?"

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English Language Learners