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She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.
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
Forever
Wanted
Crawl
Pocket
Pockets
Safe
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure and the memory so possessed him that for the moment there was nothing to do but to pretend.
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To create souls in men, to create fine happiness and fine despair she must remain deeply proud - proud to be inviolate, proud also to be melting, to be passionate and possessed.
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Experience is the name so many people give to their mistakes.
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People invariably chose inimitable people to imitate.
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I carry the place around the world in my heart but sometimes I try to shake it off in my dreams
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He was handsome then if never before, bound for one of those immortal moments which come so radiantly that their remembered light is enough to see by for years.
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Long afterward Amory thought of sophomore spring as the happiest time of his life. His ideas were in tune with life as he found it he wanted no more than to drift and dream and enjoy a dozen new-found friendships through the April afternoons.
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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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The helpless ecstasy of loosing himself in her charm was a powerful opiate rather than a tonic.
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They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.
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It takes two to make an accident.
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No, interrupted Marcia emphatically. And you're a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me. Horace stopped quickly in front of her. Why do you want me to kiss you? he asked intently. Do you just go round kissing people? Why, yes, admitted Marcia, unruffled. 'At's all life is. Just going around kissing people.
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For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.
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She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand.
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You've got an awfully kissable mouth.
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The reason one writes isn't the fact he wants to say something. He writes because he has something to say.
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smoking had come to be an important punctuation mark in the long sentence of a day on the road.
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Selfish people are in a way terribly capable of great loves.
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It isn't given to us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can wither or heal. A moment too late and we can never reach them any more in this world. They will not be cured by our most efficacious drugs or slain with our sharpest swords.
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That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
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