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Her beauty climbed the rolling slope, it came into the room, rustling ghost-like through the curtains.
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
Room
Rooms
Rustling
Came
Slope
Beauty
Slopes
Like
Climbed
Curtains
Rolling
Ghost
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Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know--because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.
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And after reading Thoreau I felt how much I have lost by leaving nature out of my life.
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They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together.
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All she wanted was to be a little girl, to be efficiently taken care of by some yielding yet superior power, stupider and steadier than herself. It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream
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Scratch a Yale man with both hands and you'll be lucky to find a coast-guard. Usually you find nothing at all.
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She was dazzling-- alight it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance.
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Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply.
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the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.
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For a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
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I don't like girls in the daytime,' he said shortly, and then thinking this a bit abrupt, he added: 'But I like you.' He cleared his throat. 'I like you first and second and third.
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A man's social rank is determined by the amount of bread he eats in a sandwich.
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One girl can be pretty - but a dozen are only a chorus.
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She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.
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Everywhere we go and move on and change, something's lost--something's left behind. You can't ever quite repeat anything, and I've been so yours, here--
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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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I talk with the authority of failure - Ernest with the authority of success. We could never sit across the same table again.
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You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement.
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The water reached up for her, pulled her down tenderly out of the heat, seeped in her hair and ran into the corners of her body. She turned round and round in it, embracing it, wallowing in it.
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And Yale is November, crisp and energetic.
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...for a moment people set down their glasses in county clubs and speak-easies and thought of their old best dreams.
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