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Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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F. Scott Fitzgerald
Age: 43 †
Born: 1897
Born: September 24
Died: 1940
Died: December 21
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Francis Scott Fitzgerald
Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald
Point
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Writing
Epic
Like
Joke
Points
Jokes
Cutting
Laughing
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Exclamation
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
To write it, it took three months to conceive it three minutes to collect the data in it all my life.
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He lifted his arms to the crystaline, radiant sky. I know myself, he cried, but that is all.
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I want to do everything in the world with you.
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That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
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When the lightning strikes one of us, it strikes both
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You are mysterious, I love you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that’s the rarest known combination.
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He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.
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To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their (W/E Egg) dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
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The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who wants to be a backbone?
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The victor belongs to the spoils.
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Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.
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If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.
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When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.
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Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?
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You can’t repeat the past.” “Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!
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Life is progressive, no matter what our intentions.
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The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.
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interested, I mean, with that intense personal interest to which every one has some vague right at the end
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We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.
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They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.
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