Quote

His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be over-dreamed —that voice was a deathless song.

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
Hand
Lows
Voice
Ears
Fluctuating
Song
Turned
Feverish
Hands
Toward
Deathless
Something
Couldn
Dreamed
Think
Took
Rush
Thinking
Hold
Warmth
Emotion
Held

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Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.
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So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.
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Intelligence is measured by a person's ability to see validity within both sides of contradicting arguments.
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he was figuratively following along beside her as she walked the fence, ready to catch her if she should fall.
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For what it’s worth, it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be.
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Travel, which had once charmed him, seemed, at length, unendurable, a business of color without substance, a phantom chase after his own dream's shadow.
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Experience is not worth the getting. It's not a thing that happens pleasantly to a passive you--it's a wall that an active you runs up against.
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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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You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement.
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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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sometimes i wish i'd been an englishman american life is so damned dumb and stupid and healthy
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I was too absorbed to be responsive
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Intelligence is a mere instrument of circumstances.
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She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.
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It is not merely enough to have the ability to be persistant, you must also have the ability to start over.
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When the first-rate author wants an exquisite heroine or a lovely morning, he finds that all the superlatives have been worn shoddy by his inferiors. It should be a rule that bad writers must start with plain heroines and ordinary mornings, and, if they are able, work up to something better.
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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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Shakespeare--whetting, frustrating, surprising and gratifying.
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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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