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And in the end, we were all just humans...Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
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
Ideas
Humans
Love
Brokenness
Drunk
Heal
Idea
Ends
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The things that'll make you fail I'll love always.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be over-dreamed —that voice was a deathless song.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Englishmen must have an island.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Often people display a curious respect for a man drunk, rather like the respect of simple races for the insane... There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Youth is like having a big plate of candy. Sentimentalists think they want to be in the pure, simple state they were in before they ate the candy. They don't. They just want the fun of eating it all over again.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Then a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled, and as he saw her smile every rag of anger and hurt vanity dropped from him — as though his very moods were but the outer ripples of her own, as though emotion rose no longer in his breast unless she saw fit to pull an omnipotent controlling thread.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Men get to be a mixture of the charming mannerisms of the women they have known.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself
F. Scott Fitzgerald
He snatched out his hand desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his burred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Baltimore is warm but pleasant... I belong here, where everything is civilized and gay and rotted and polite.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I hope I haven't given you the impression that I consider kissing intrinsically irrational.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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
Of the things they possessed in common, greatest of all was their almost uncanny pull at each others hearts.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Of all natural forces, vitality is the incommunicable one. . . . Vitality never takes. You have it or you haven't it, like health or brown eyes or a baritone voice.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
For what it's worth, it's never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you're proud of and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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
