There's a difference somewhere. Being a supreme egotist Ardita frequently.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I like temperamental men.' 'There aren't any. Men don't know how to be really angry or really happy-- and the ones that do, go to pieces.
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.
After all, in the very casualness of Gatsby's party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from her world.
I didn't realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.
Happiness, remarked Maury Noble one day, is only the first hour after the alleviation of some especially intense misery.