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Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.

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
Memories
Fade
Grows
Fades
Beautiful
Decay
Certain
Height
Things
Breathing
Fail
Failing
Grow
Relics

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To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their (W/E Egg) dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
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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.
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The strongest guard is placed at the gateway to nothing. Maybe because the condition of emptiness is too shameful to be divulged.
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I talk with the authority of failure - Ernest with the authority of success. We could never sit across the same table again.
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...I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
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There's no beauty without poignancy and there's no poignancy without the feeling that it's going, men, names, books, houses--bound for dust--mortal--
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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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Her philosophy is carpe diem for herself and laissez faire for others.
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The easiest way to get a reputation is to go outside the fold, shout around for a few years as a violent atheist or a dangerous radical, and then crawl back to the shelter.
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You’re just the romantic age,” she continued- “fifty. Twenty-five is too worldly wise thirty is apt to be pale from overwork forty is the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell sixty is- oh, sixty is too near seventy but fifty is the mellow age. I love fifty.” - Hildegarde
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I think they're very attractive,' Abe agreed. 'I just don't think they're attractive, that's all.
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I suppose books mean more than people to me anyway
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You seem to take things so personally, hating people and worshipping them--always thinking people are so important--especially yourselves. You just ask to be kicked around. I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it--on the inside.
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Scratch a Yale man with both hands and you'll be lucky to find a coast-guard. Usually you find nothing at all.
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The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.
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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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There was even a recurrent idea in America about an education that would leave out history and the past, that should be a sort of equipment for aerial adventure, weighed down by none of the stowaways of inheritance or tradition.
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Even when the east excited me most, even when I was keenly aware of its superiority to the broad, sprawling, swollen towns beyond the Ohio, with their interminable inquisitions which only spared children and the very old-even then it had always for me a quality of distortion.
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What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon,' cried Daisy, 'and the day after that, and the next thirty years?' 'Don't be morbid,' Jordan said. 'Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.' 'But it's so hot,' insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears, 'And everything's so confused. Let's all go to town!
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The world, as a rule, does not live on beaches and in country clubs.
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