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I can’t tell you just how wonderful she is. I don’t want you to know. I don’t want any one to know.

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
Wonderful
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More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald

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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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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The rich get richer and the poor get - children.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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She knew few words and believed in none.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Reporting the extreme things as if they were the average things will start you on the art of fiction.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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I want to do everything in the world with you.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Work like hell! I had 122 rejection slips before I sold a story.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Receding from grief, it seems necessary to retrace the same steps that brought us there.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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The invitation to Miss Myra St. Claire's bobbing party spent the morning in his coat pocket, where it had an intense physical affair with a dusty piece of peanut brittle.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Human sympathy has its limits, and we were contented to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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You're not sorry to go, of course. With people like us our home is where we are not... No one person in the world is necessary to you or to me.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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In the morning you were never violently sorry-- you made no resolutions, but if you had overdone it and your heart was slightly out of order, you went on the wagon for a few days without saying anything about it, and waited until an accumulation of nervous boredom projected you into another party.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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He had no plans, no definite intentions, except to kiss her lips again, to hold her in his arms.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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He dispensed starlight to casual moths.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Amory thought how it was only the past that seemed strange and unbelievable.
F. Scott Fitzgerald