Quote

we both fitted. If our corners were not rubbed off they were at least pulled in. But deep in us both was something that made us require more for happiness. I didn't know what I wanted

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
Happiness
Didn
Rubbed
Wanted
Fitted
Made
Pulled
Something
Require
Corners
Deep
Least

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We want to believe. Young students try to believe in older authors, constituents try to believe in their Congressmen, countries try to believe in their statesmen, but they can't. Too many voices, too much scattered, illogical ill-considered criticism.
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Amory wondered how people could fail to notice that he was a boy marked for glory, and when faces of the throng turned toward him and ambiguous eyes stared into his, he assumed the most romantic of expressions and walked on the air cushions that lie on the asphalts of fourteen.
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You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.
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Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?
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If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.
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We all have souls of different ages
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Women are necessarily capable of almost anything in their struggle for survival and can scarcely be convicted of such man-made crimes as “cruelty.
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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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Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?... This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th' accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves, And give them title, knee and approbation With senators on the bench.
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For the moment I can only cry out that I have lost my splendid mirage. Come back, come back, O glittering and white!
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He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real.
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I love this simply because it's cute, and I guess it's a sign of the times in many respect. It's pretty much saying you complete me, only in the sweetest way possible.
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Never walk near the bed to a ghost your ankle is your most vulnerable part-once in bed, you're safe he may lie around under the bed all night, but you're safe as daylight. If you still have doubts pull the blanket over your head.
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The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.
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We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.
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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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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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Once we were one person, and always it will be a little that way.
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He talked a lot about the past and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy.
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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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