F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes
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Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering
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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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I love this simply because it's cute, and I guess it's a sign of the times in many respect. It's pretty much saying you complete me, only in the sweetest way possible.
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He wanted to appear suddenly to her in novel and heroic colors. He wanted to stir her from that casualness she showed toward everything except herself.
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I had traded the fight against love for the fight against loneliness, the fight against life for the fight against death.
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Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter... And the rain and over the fields a voice calling...
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You are mysterious, I love you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that’s the rarest known combination.
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Modern life... changes no longer century by century, but year by year, ten times faster than it ever has before-populations doubling, civilizations unified more closely with other civilizations, economic interdependence, racial questions, and-we're dawdling along. My idea is that we've got to go very much faster.
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They seemed nearer, not only mentally, but physically when they read ... Their chance was to make everything fine and finished and rich and imaginative; they must bend tiny golden tentacles from his imagination to hers, that would take the place of the great, deep love that was never so near, yet never so much of a dream.
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Sometimes I wish I'd went through those good times stone cold sober so I could remember everything," he said, "but then again, if I had been sober the times probably wouldn't have been worth remembering.
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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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Learn young about hard work and manners - and you'll be through the whole dirty mess and nicely dead again before you know it.
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He was going to live in New York, and be known at every restaurant and cafe, wearing a dress suit from early evening to early morning, sleeping away the dull hours of the forenoon.
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The purpose of a work of fiction is to appeal to the lingering after-effects in the reader's mind as differing from, say, the purpose of oratory or philosophy which respectively leave people in a fighting or thoughtful mood.
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I just couldn't make the grade as a hack-that, like everything else, requires a certain practiced excellence.
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One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual.
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All that kept her from breaking was that it was not an image of strength that was leaving her; she would be just as strong without him.
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Rosemary felt that this swim would become the typical one of her life, the one that would always pop up in her memory at the mention of swimming.
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So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.
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A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.
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It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together.
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It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
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I began to realize that for two years my life had been a drawing on resources that I did not possess, that I had been mortgaging myself physically and spiritually up to the hilt.
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She’s got an indiscreet voice,” I remarked. “It’s full of-“ I hesitated. “Her voice is full of money,” he said suddenly. That was it. I’d never understood before. It was full of money-that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals’ song of it.