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So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.
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
Decided
Stiff
Line
Blew
Wind
Laundry
Lines
Wet
Home
Smoke
Back
Leaves
Come
Blue
Air
Brittle
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I love this simply because it's cute, and I guess it's a sign of the times in many respect. It's pretty much saying you complete me, only in the sweetest way possible.
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I have lived hard and ruined the essential innocence [sic] in myself that could make it that possible [sic], and the fact that I have abused liquor is something to be paid for with suffering and death perhaps but not renunciation.
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Often a man can play the helpless child in front of a woman, but he can almost never bring it off when he feels most like a helpless child.
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Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering
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You've got an awfully kissable mouth.
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It was strange to have no self-to be like a little boy left alone in a big house, who knew that now he could do anything he wanted to do, but found that there was nothing that he wanted to do.
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There is a moment—Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word—something that makes it worth while.
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And in the end, we were all just humans...Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
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From the ruins, lonely and inexplicable as the sphinx, rose the Empire State Building.
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A sense of responsibility would spoil her. She's too pretty.
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They were stars on this stage, each playing to an audience of two: the passion of their pretense created the actuality. Here, finally, was the quintessence of self-expression-- yet it was probable that for the most part their love expressed Gloria rather than Anthony. He felt often like a scarecly tolerated guest at a party she was giving.
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The sign of intelligence is the ability to carry opposed thoughts at the same time.
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To create souls in men, to create fine happiness and fine despair she must remain deeply proud - proud to be inviolate, proud also to be melting, to be passionate and possessed.
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Travel, which had once charmed him, seemed, at length, unendurable, a business of color without substance, a phantom chase after his own dream's shadow.
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I have asked a lot of my emotions-one hundred and twenty stories. The price was high, right up with Kipling, because there was one little drop of something, not blood, not a tear, not my seed, but me more intimately than these, in every story, it was the extra I had. Now it has gone and I am just like you now.
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Then a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled, and as he saw her smile every rag of anger and hurt vanity dropped from him — as though his very moods were but the outer ripples of her own, as though emotion rose no longer in his breast unless she saw fit to pull an omnipotent controlling thread.
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Having once found the intensity of art, nothing else that can happen in life can ever again seem as important as the creative process.
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The notion of sitting down and conjuring up, not only words in which to clothe thoughts but thoughts worthy of being clothed--the whole thing was absurdly beyond his desires.
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I didn't realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.
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A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.
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