Quote

In the morning you were never violently sorry-- you made no resolutions, but if you had overdone it and your heart was slightly out of order, you went on the wagon for a few days without saying anything about it, and waited until an accumulation of nervous boredom projected you into another party.

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
Party
Resolution
Wagon
Another
Boredom
Violently
Order
Nervous
Projected
Anything
Sorry
Wagons
Without
Saying
Resolutions
Heart
Went
Waited
Made
Days
Accumulation
Never
Morning
Slightly
Overdone

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My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.
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She wouldn't let go of the letter. She took it into the tub with her and squeezed it up in a wet ball, and only let me leave it in the soap dish when she saw that it was coming to pieces like snow.
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The kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female reptile, implying in a subtle way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before.
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Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays.
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he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.
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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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Beauty is only to be admired, only to be loved - to be harvested carefully and then flung at a chosen lover like a gift of roses. It seems to me, so far as I can judge clearly at all, that my beauty would be used like that.
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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.
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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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When people are taken out of their depths they lose their heads, no matter how charming a bluff they may put up.
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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 transition from libertine to prig was so complete.
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It is youth’s felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined future
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They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.
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The mouth was wide open and ripped at the corners, as though she had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long.
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Human sympathy has its limits.
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When the lightning strikes one of us, it strikes both
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And Yale is November, crisp and energetic.
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