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No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
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
Fire
Daisies
Heart
Freshness
Men
Store
Love
Classic
Stores
Challenge
Amount
Challenges
Ghostly
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The first lights of the evening were springing into pale existence. The Ferris wheel, pricked out now in lights, revolved leisurely through the dusk a few empty cars of the roller coaster rattled overhead.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Life is essentially a cheat and its conditions are those of defeat the redeeming things are not happiness and pleasure but the deeper satisfactions that come out of struggle.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
It occurred to me that there was no difference between men, in intelligence or race, so profound as the difference between the sick and the well.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again. When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy -- one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Girls like you are responsible for all the tiresome colorless marriages all those ghastly inefficiencies that pass as feminine qualities. What a blow it must be when a man with imagination marries the beautiful bundle of clothes that he's been building ideals around, and finds that she's just a weak, whining, cowardly mass of affectations!
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Actually that’s my secret — I can’t even talk about you to anybody because I don’t want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
He had waited five years and bought a mansion where he dispensed starlight to casual moths - so that he could 'come over' some afternoon to a stranger's garden.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Your first most typical figure in any new place turns out to be a bluff or a local nuisance.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
There is a moment—Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word—something that makes it worth while.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Isn't Hollywood a dump-in the human sense of the word. A hideous town, pointed up by the insulting gardens of its rich, full of the human spirit at a new low of debasement.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Of the things they possessed in common, greatest of all was their almost uncanny pull at each others hearts.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Feel like criticizing any one, he told me, just remember
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself
F. Scott Fitzgerald
