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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Ernest Hemingway

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'I wish you luck, truly, and with all my heart,' Mr. Frazer said.

 

They were his standards in all except the shooting. He had his own standards about the killing and they could live up to them or get someone else to hunt them. He knew, too, that they all respected him for this. This Macomber was art odd one though. Damned if he wasn't. Now the wife. Well, the wife. Yes, the wife, Mm, the wife. Well, he'd dropped all that. He looked around at them. Macomber sat grim and

 

'I can't do it. Besides, I've been going good lately.'

 

'Have you seen the number with the coloured plates of the North American fauna?'

 

'It's heavy, 5 he said. 'Look, Paco. It is very dangerous. Don't do it.' He was sweating.

 

'B Company was stopped first by enemy action and stayed there of their own accord. S-6 isn't doing so good. This is unofficial. He wants more artillery but there isn't any more artillery.

 

'Please don't be rough,' the girl said. 'I don't feel at all like being rough to-night.'

 

'I did indeed,' the Gran Maestro said. 'Thank you for stating it so exactly.'

 

'No. All contours are for our five sons and for your head to rest on.'

 

Ettore left and the girl turned towards him and looked in his old steel eyes and put both her hands on his bad one and said, 'You were quite gentle.'

 

All my life the early sun has hurt my eyes, he thought. Yet they are still good. In the evening I can look straight into it without getting the blackness. It has more force in the evening too. But in the morning it is painful.

 

"I do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now for I still have much to learn."

 

From where he swung lightly against his oars he looked down into the water and saw the tiny fish that were coloured like the trailing filaments and swam between them and under the small shade the bubble made as it drifted. They were immune to its poison. But men were not and when some of the filaments would catch on a line and rest there slimy and purple while the old man was working a fish, he would have welts and sores on his arms and hands of the sort that poison ivy or poison oak can give. But these poisonings from the agua mala came quickly and struck like a whiplash.

 

"You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach me everything. How much did you suffer?"

 

There is no sense in being anything but practical though, he thought. I wish I had some salt. And I do not know whether the sun will rot or dry what is left, so I had better eat it all although I am not hungry. The fish is calm and steady. I will eat it all and then I will be ready.

 

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