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I couldn't forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.
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
Entirely
Forgiving
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Carelessness
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Careless
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More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy -- one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.
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Have a drink Tom and then you won't feel so foolish to yourself.
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Once we were one person, and always it will be a little that way.
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Conditions in the [movie] industry somehow propose the paradox: We brought you here for your individuality but while you're here we insist that you do everything to conceal it.
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Men get to be a mixture of the charming mannerisms of the women they have known.
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She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.
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He was going to live in New York, and be known at every restaurant and café, wearing a dress suit from early evening to early morning, sleeping away the dull hours of the forenoon.
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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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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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It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.
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Learn young about hard work and manners - and you'll be through the whole dirty mess and nicely dead again before you know it.
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Having once found the intensity of art, nothing else that can happen in life can ever again seem as important as the creative process.
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That's the whole burden of this novel - the loss of those illusions that give such color to the world that you don't care whether things are true or false as long as they partake of the magical glory.
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You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.
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She was a dark, unenduring little flower - yet he thought he detected in her some quality of spiritual reticence, of strength drawn from her passive acceptance of all things. In this he was mistaken.
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I was too absorbed to be responsive
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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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And he could not tell why the struggle was worthwhile, why he had determined to use the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed... He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. I know myself, he cried, But that is all.
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Think how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.' You'll always be like this to me.' Oh no but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.
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Often a man can play the helpless child in front of a woman, but he can almost never bring it off when he feels most like a helpless child.
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