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All I kept thinking about, over and over, was 'You can't live forever you can't live forever.
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
Forever
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Thinking
Kept
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Everything that begins, begins with blood.
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Premature success gives one an almost mystical conception of destiny as opposed to will power-at its worst the Napoleonic delusion.
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All I think of ever is that I love you.
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So they were desperately in love and being desperately in love involves a desperate existence.
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When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.
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Englishmen must have an island.
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we both fitted. If our corners were not rubbed off they were at least pulled in. But deep in us both was something that made us require more for happiness. I didn't know what I wanted
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That's the whole burden of this novel - the loss of those illusions that give such color to the world that you don't care whether things are true or false as long as they partake of the magical glory.
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Trouble has no necessary connection with discouragement. Discouragement has a germ of its own, as different from trouble as arthritis is different from a stiff joint.
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France was a land, England was a people, but America, having about it still that quality of the idea, was harder to utter - it was the graves at Shiloh and the tired, drawn, nervous faces of its great men, and the country boys dying in the Argonne for a phrase that was empty before their bodies withered. It was a willingness of the heart.
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The invitation to Miss Myra St. Claire's bobbing party spent the morning in his coat pocket, where it had an intense physical affair with a dusty piece of peanut brittle.
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I'm not much like myself any more.
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He had possessed the arrogance of a tall member of a short race, with no obligation save to be tall.
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I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.
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It’s just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I sort of feel they’re never coming again, and I’m not really getting all I could out of them.
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he used to think that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be kind, he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit it in.
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Baltimore is warm but pleasant... I belong here, where everything is civilized and gay and rotted and polite.
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Long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.
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From the ruins, lonely and inexplicable as the sphinx, rose the Empire State Building.
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I want to be a society vampire, you see.
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