Oh God! One minute it's my world, and the next I'm the world's fool.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Profession: Author
Nationality: American

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Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.

You see, 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.

Great books write themselves, only bad books have to be written.

In fact, I once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you'll excuse the presumption.

He's quite as nervously broken down as I am, but it manifests itself in different ways. His inclination is toward megalomania and mine toward melancholy.

Dear little Dot, life is so damned hard." She was crying upon his shoulder. "So damned hard, so damned hard," he repeated aimlessly; "it just hurts people and hurts people, until finally it hurts them so that they can't be hurt ever any more. That's the last and worst thing it does.

The clean book bill will be one of the most immoral measures ever adopted. It will throw American art back into the junk heap.

Just that I'm not a realist,' he said, and then: 'No, only the romanticist preserves the things worth preserving.

Then tell me all the reasons why you're going to marry me in June. Well, because you're so clean. You're sort of blowy clean, like I am. There's two sorts, you know. One's like Dick: he's clean like polished pans. You and I are clean like streams and winds. I can tell whenever I see a person whether he is clean, and if so, which kind of clean he is.

He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...

Only a few months before people had been urging him to give in, to submit to mediocrity, to go to work.

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.

This is what I think now; that the natural state of the sentient adult is a qualified unhappiness. I think also that in an adult the desire to be finer in grain than you are, "a constant striving" (as those people say who gain their bread by saying it) only adds to this unhappiness in the end--that end that comes to our youth and hope.

I knew that what was left of me would always love you, but never in quite the same way'.