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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Ernest Hemingway

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"What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good."

 

With his prayers said, and feeling much better, but suffering exactly as much, and perhaps a little more, he leaned against the wood of the bow and began, mechanically, to work the fingers of his left hand.

 

He straightened up, wiping his hand on his trousers.

 

He loved green turtles and hawks-bills with their elegance and speed and their great value and he had a friendly contempt for the huge, stupid loggerheads, yellow in their armour-plating, strange in their love-making, and happily eating the Portuguese men-of-war with their eyes shut.

 

He was comfortable but suffering, although he did not admit the suffering at all.

 

'That's Torcello directly opposite us,' the Colonel pointed. 'That where the people lived that were driven off the mainland by the Visigoths. They built that church you see there with the square tower. There were thirty thousand people lived there once and they built that church to honour their Lord and to worship him. Then, after they built it, the mouth of the Sile River silted up or a big flood changed it, and all that land we came through just now got flooded and started to breed mosquitoes and malaria hit them. They all started to die, so the elders got together and decided they should pull out to a healthy place that would be defensible with boats, and where the Visigoths and the Lombards and the other bandits couldn't get at them, because these bandits had no sea-power. The Torcello boys were all great boatmen. So they took the stones of all their houses in barges, like that one we just saw, and they built Venice.'

 

'He is,' the Colonel answered. 'And he better damn well be tender.'

 

'We have the most terrific military secrets that one General's wife ever told another. Energy crackers is the least of it. Next time we will give all Venice botulism from 56,000 feet. There's nothing to it,' the Colonel explained. 'They give you anthrax, and you give them botulism.'

 

'I love you very much the way you are,' the Colonel said. 'And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, or seen, ever in paintings by good painters.'

 

'No, you wouldn't,' the girl said. 'You would not throw me off any high cliffs.'

 

“Eat,” he said. “What do you think it’s here for?”

 

I stood in front of the door of Mike’s room and knocked. There was no answer. I tried the knob and it opened. Inside the room was in great disorder. All the bags were opened and clothing was strewn around. There were empty bottles beside the bed. Mike lay on the bed looking like a death mask of himself. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

 

“She wanted to get out of town and she can’t go anywhere alone. She said she thought it would be good for him.”

 

“Let’s take a drive. It might do my credit good. Let’s drive about a little.”

 

I banged on the glass. The chauffeur stopped. “Here’s my street,” I said. “Come in and have a drink.”

 

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