F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes
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One hurries through, even though there's time; the past, the continent, is behind; the future is the glowing mouth in the side of the ship; the dim, turbulent alley is too confusedly the present.
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What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours?
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It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life.
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And in the end, we were all just humans...Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
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Long afterward Amory thought of sophomore spring as the happiest time of his life. His ideas were in tune with life as he found it; he wanted no more than to drift and dream and enjoy a dozen new-found friendships through the April afternoons.
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I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
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A new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken...
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This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes.
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I am too much a moralist at heart, and really want to preach at people in some acceptable form, rather than entertain them.
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I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him. [- Nick Carroway]
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Women are necessarily capable of almost anything in their struggle for survival and can scarcely be convicted of such man-made crimes as “cruelty.
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She was a dark, unenduring little flower - yet he thought he detected in her some quality of spiritual reticence, of strength drawn from her passive acceptance of all things. In this he was mistaken.
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Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-
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Actually that’s my secret — I can’t even talk about you to anybody because I don’t want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
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Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.
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Many nights he lay there dreaming awake of secret cafes in Mont Marte, where ivory women delved in romantic mysteries with diplomats and soldiers of fortune, while orchestras played Hungarian waltzes and the air was thick and exotic with intrigue and moonlight and adventure.
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Exploration was for those with a measure of peasant blood, those with big thighs and thick ankles who could take punishment as they took bread and salt, on every inch of flesh and spirit.
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It takes a genius to whine appealingly.
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It is not necessarily poverty of spirit that makes a woman surround herself with life - it can be a superabundance of interest.
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Think how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.' You'll always be like this to me.' Oh no; but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.
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the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.
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but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game
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You can’t repeat the past.” “Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!
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I hope something happens. I'm restless as the devil and have a horror of getting fat or falling in love and growing domestic.