Quotes About Dreams

Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.

Oh, sleep that dreams, and dream that never tires, press from the petals of the lotus flower something of this to keep, the essence of an hour.

He wanted a world that was like walking through rain

New York, he supposed, was home—the city of luxury and mystery, of preposterous hopes and exotic dreams.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Thirty - the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside me who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.

we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther….

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... and one fine morning- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning——

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther...And then one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

J'aimerais attraper un de ces nuages roses, vous y enfermer, et vous envoyer rouler dans l'espace.

No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

Breathing dreams like air.

The thin tunes, holding lost times and future hopes in liaison, twisted upon the Valais night.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… And one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Je crois que cette voix l'attachait plus que tout, avec ses inflexions exaltantes, envoûtantes, car aucun de ses rêves n'aurait pu en imaginer de plus belle — cette voix était un chant d'immortalité.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him.

There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything.

Gatsby croyait en la lumière verte, en l'extatique avenir qui d'année en année recule devant nous. Il nous a échappé ! Qu'importe ! Demain nous courrons plus vite, nos bras s'étendront plus loin... Et un beau matin... C'est ainsi que nous avançons, barques luttant contre un courant qui nous rejette sans cesse vers le passé.

Almost five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

Think of it as if you were standing on one of those globes with a map on it — I always wanted one when I was a boy." "I understand," she said after a minute. "When you do that, you can feel the earth turn, can't you?" He nodded. "Yes. Otherwise it's all just mañana — waiting for the morning or the moon.