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You are mine-you know you're mine! he cried wildly...the moonlight twisted in through the vines and listened...the fireflies hung upon their whispers as if to win his glance from the glory of their eyes.
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
Eyes
Glances
Winning
Twisted
Fireflies
Upon
Listened
Firefly
Eye
Hung
Wildly
Cried
Whispers
Mines
Vines
Mine
Glance
Glory
Moonlight
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Women are necessarily capable of almost anything in their struggle for survival and can scarcely be convicted of such man-made crimes as “cruelty.
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For the moment I can only cry out that I have lost my splendid mirage. Come back, come back, O glittering and white!
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You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.
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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you -- like music to the musician or Marxism to the Communist -- or else it is nothing, an empty, formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
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And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
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It appears that every man's insomnia is as different from his neighbours as are their daytime hopes and aspirations.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.
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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.
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he could transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour.
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The failure and the success both believe in their hearts that they have accurately balanced points of view, the success because he's succeeded, and the failure because he's failed. The successful man tells his son to profit by his father's good fortune, and the failure tells his son to profit by his father's mistakes.
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Good manners are an admission that everybody is so tender that they have to be handled with gloves. Now, human respect—you don't call a man a coward or a liar lightly, but if you spend your life sparing people's feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can't distinguish what should be respected in them.
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She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.
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Nothing any good isn't hard.
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Never befuddle a solitary thrashing with a last annihilation.
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At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.
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He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real.
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It was strange to have no self-to be like a little boy left alone in a big house, who knew that now he could do anything he wanted to do, but found that there was nothing that he wanted to do.
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Amory: I love you. Rosalind: I love you- now.
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You've got an awfully kissable mouth.
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I have never wished there was a God to call on- I have often wished there was a God to thank.
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