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But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

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
Turbulent
Riot
Constant
Heart

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Books are like brothers. I am an only child. Gatsby [is] my imaginary eldest brother.
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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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Once we were one person, and always it will be a little that way.
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The idea that to make a man work you've got to hold gold in front of his eyes is a growth, not an axiom. We've done that for so long that we've forgotten there's any other way.
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Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.
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I began to realize that for two years my life had been a drawing on resources that I did not possess, that I had been mortgaging myself physically and spiritually up to the hilt.
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The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.
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Joan Crawford is doubtless the best example of the flapper, the girl you see in smart night clubs, gowned to the apex of sophistication, toying iced glasses with a remote, faintly bitter expression, dancing deliciously, laughing a great deal, with wide, hurt eyes. Young things with a talent for living.
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There was a kindliness about intoxication - there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.
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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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They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together.
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he wanted people to like his mind again-after awhile it might be such a nice place in which to live.
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The world, as a rule, does not live on beaches and in country clubs.
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I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry.
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