F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes
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I can’t tell you just how wonderful she is. I don’t want you to know. I don’t want any one to know.
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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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Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
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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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He read at wine, he read in bed, He read aloud, had he the breath, His every thought was with the dead, And so he read himself to death.
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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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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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Begin with an individual, and before you know it you find that you have created a type; begin with a type, and you find that you have created - nothing.
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I have asked a lot of my emotions-one hundred and twenty stories. The price was high, right up with Kipling, because there was one little drop of something, not blood, not a tear, not my seed, but me more intimately than these, in every story, it was the extra I had. Now it has gone and I am just like you now.
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Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy -- one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.
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A stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words.
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We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.
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...I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
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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.
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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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Often a man can play the helpless child in front of a woman, but he can almost never bring it off when he feels most like a helpless child.
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One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.
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This is the beauty I want. Beauty has got to be astonishing, astounding-- it's got to burst in on you like a dream, like the exquisite eyes of a girl.
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He had waited five years and bought a mansion where he dispensed starlight to casual moths - so that he could 'come over' some afternoon to a stranger's garden.
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then, as though it had been waiting on a near by roof for their arrival, the moon came slanting suddenly through the vines and turned the girl's face the color of white roses.
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I think that we already have a really good system in town, but I have a vision that it could be even better. My vision is that academic excellence is the area that we should pursue more, coupled with fiscal discipline.
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The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.
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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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It takes a genius to whine appealingly.