Gatsby was overwhelmingly aware of the youth and mystery that wealth imprisons and preserves, of the freshness of many clothes, and of Daisy, gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Profession: Author
Nationality: American

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She was a brave, hopeful woman and she was following her husband somewhere, changing herself to this kind of person or that, without being able to lead him a step out of his path, and sometimes realizing with discouragement how deep in him the guarded secret of her direction lay. And yet an air of luck clung about her, as if she were a token...

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. When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.

Whenever you feel like criticzing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.

They damned the books I read and the things I thought by calling them immoral; later the fashion changed, and they damned things by calling them ‘clever.

My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.

Life is progressive, no matter what our intentions.

You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in this world, your imagination.

I can't describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport. I even hoped for a while that she'd throw me over, but she didn't, because she was in love with me too. She thought I knew a lot because I knew different things from her.

At eleven she sat with Dick and the Norths at a houseboat café just opened on the Seine. The river shimmered with lights from the bridges and cradled many cold moons.

The sun had gone down behind the tall apartments of the movie stars in the West Fifties, and the unclear voices of children, already gathered like crikets on the grass, rose through the hot twilight.

Nothing is as obnoxious as other people's luck.

Someday I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go.

We must leave this terrifying place to-morrow and go searching for sunshine.

His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.