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Even when everything seems rotten you can't trust that judgment. It's the sum of all your judgments that counts.
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
Even
Judgments
Rotten
Counts
Judgement
Judgment
Trust
Seems
Everything
Gloria
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In short, you have only your emotions to sell. This is the experience of all writers.
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Most affectations conceal something eventually, even though they don't in the beginning.
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She was a faded but still lovely woman of twenty-seven.
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If you have anything to say, anything you feel nobody has ever said before, you have got to feel it so desperately that you will find some way to say it that nobody has ever found before, so that the thing you have to say and the way of saying it blend as one matter--as indissolubly as if they were conceived together.
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A stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words.
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Those days are over. I have to be won all over again every time you see me.
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In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.
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The helpless ecstasy of loosing himself in her charm was a powerful opiate rather than a tonic.
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They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.
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There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.
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He's sensitive and I don't want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn't care about him.
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Human sympathy has its limits, and we were contented to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.
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She was feeling the pressure of the world outside and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all.
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Stahr's eyes and Kathleen's met and tangled. For an instant they made love as no one ever dares to do after. Their glance was slower than an embrace, more urgent than a call.
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If he had to bring all the bitterness and hatred of the world into his heart, he was not going to be in love with her again.
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I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye.
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It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water.
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Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!
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The things that'll make you fail I'll love always.
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I like France, where everybody thinks he's Napoleon--down here everybody thinks he's Christ.
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