Quotes from F. Scott Fitzgerald

The dripping became a flow and formed an oily pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on its quivering bosom.

They were all tall and slender with heads groomed like manikins' heads, and as they talked the heads waved gracefully above their dark tailored suits, rather like long-stemmed flowers and rather like cobras' hoods.

The truth was that for some months he had been going through that partitioning of the things of youth wherein it is decided whether or not to die for what one no longer believes. In the dead white hours in Zurich staring into a stranger's pantry across the upshine of a streetlamp, he used to think that he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit that in.

that there was no great literary tradition; there was only the tradition of the eventful death of every literary tradition…. Then

Within the building the trio broke into Suppe's Light Calvary. Nicole took advantage if this to stand up and the impression of her youth beauty grew on Dick until it welled up inside him in a compact paroxysm of emotion. She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.

Then it was something more. I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity. The bored haughty face that she turned to the world concealed something—most affectations conceal something eventually, even though they don't in the beginning—and

As I watched him he adjusted himself a little, visibly. His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn't be over-dreamed — that voice was a deathless song.

Stahr's eyes and Kathleen's met and tangled.

Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.

I tried to go then, but they wouldn't hear it; perhaps my presence made them feel more satisfactorily alone.

Vich Deelish   My heart is in the heart of my son     And my life is in his life surely   A man can be twice young     In the life of his sons only.

mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently

Rosemary pojecha?a do Monte Carlo zgn?biona - na miar? swoich mo?liwo?ci - wprost bezgranicznie.

He felt persistently that the girl was beautiful—then of a sudden he understood: it was her distance, not a rare and precious distance of soul but still distance, if only in terrestrial yards.

Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am to-night.

I want to go to Princeton," said Amory. "I don't know why, but I think of all Harvard men as sissies, like I used to be, and all Yale men as wearing big blue sweaters and smoking pipes." Monsignor

Often people display a curious respect for a man drunk, rather like the respect of simple races for the insane. Respect rather than fear. There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions, who will do anything. Of course we make him pay afterward for his moment of superiority

The night had made a sharp difference in the weather and there was an autumn flavor in the air.

He wheeled off his bicycle, feeling Nicole's eyes following him, feeling her helpless first love, feeling it twist around inside him. He went three hundred yards up the slope to the other hotel, he engaged a room and found himself washing without a memory of the intervening ten minutes, only a sort of drunken flush pierced with voices, unimportant voices that did not know how much he was loved.

Later in the garden she was happy; she did not want anything to happen, but only for the situation to remain in suspension as the two men tossed her from one mind to another; she had not existed for a long time, even as a ball.

She was perhaps the delicious inexpressible, once-in-a-century blend

I'm sick of a system where the richest man gets the most beautiful girl if he wants her, where the artist without an income has to sell his talents to a button manufacturer.

Por un momento el último rayo de sol cayó con una afectación romántica sobre su cara radiante; su voz me llevaba dejándome sin aliento conforme yo escuchaba...

Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space.