When people have so much for outsiders didn't it indicate a lack of inner intensity?

F. Scott Fitzgerald

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Profession: Author
Nationality: American


When people have so much for outsiders didn't it indicate a lack of inner intensity? F. Scott Fitzgerald

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In 1913, when Anthony Patch was twenty-five, two years were already gone since irony, the Holy Ghost of this later day, had, theoretically at least, descended upon him. Irony was the final polish of the shoe, the ultimate dab of the clothes-brush, a sort of intellectual "There!"—yet.

I love her and that's the beginning of everything...

At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness.

But some day I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go.

The bottle of whiskey - the second one - was now in constant demand by all present, excepting Catherine, who 'felt just as good on nothing at all.

In any case you mustn't confuse a single failure with a final defeat.

You probably think you know...The failure and the success both believe in their hearts that they have accurately balanced points of view, the success because he's succeeded, and the failure because he's failed. The successful man tells his son to profit by his father's good fortune, and the failure tells his son to profit by his father's mistakes.

They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.

At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others — poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner — young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

Advertising is a racket, like the movies and the brokerage business. You cannot be honest without admitting that its constructive contribution to humanity is exactly minus zero.

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others--young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

Age will go Back to the old— For all our tears We shall not know.

Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy.