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Every author ought to write every book as if he were going to be beheaded the day he finished it.
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
Writing
Going
Every
Beheaded
Author
Finished
Ought
Write
Book
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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.
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A squalid phantasmagoria of breath
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You are mine-you know you're mine! he cried wildly...the moonlight twisted in through the vines and listened...the fireflies hung upon their whispers as if to win his glance from the glory of their eyes.
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It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water.
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Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope.
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Debut: the first time a young girl is seen drunk in public.
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She was a faded but still lovely woman of twenty-seven.
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Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays.
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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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I avoided writers very carefully because they can perpetuate trouble as no one else can.
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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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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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All she wanted was to be a little girl, to be efficiently taken care of by some yielding yet superior power, stupider and steadier than herself. It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream
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A new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken...
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To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their (W/E Egg) dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
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Isn't Hollywood a dump-in the human sense of the word. A hideous town, pointed up by the insulting gardens of its rich, full of the human spirit at a new low of debasement.
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...I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
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Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know--because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.
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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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Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me.
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