Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I found myself on Gatsby's side and alone.
It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirts before.
Love is fragile -- she was thinking -- but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new love-words, the tenderness learned, and treasured up for the next lover.
Nonfiction is a form of literature that lies halfway between fiction and fact.
He put his arms around her, enclosing her completely as if he didn't want even the intangible to escape.