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I just couldn't make the grade as a hack-that, like everything else, requires a certain practiced excellence.
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
Couldn
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Hack
Else
Hacks
Certain
Practiced
Everything
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Requires
More quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald
When the first-rate author wants an exquisite heroine or a lovely morning, he finds that all the superlatives have been worn shoddy by his inferiors. It should be a rule that bad writers must start with plain heroines and ordinary mornings, and, if they are able, work up to something better.
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
But you can love more than just one person, can't you?
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Can't repeat the past? he cried incredulously. Why of course you can! He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The rich are different from us.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
You can take Hollywood for granted like I did, or you can dismiss it with the contempt we reserve for what we don't understand. It can be understood too, but only dimly and in flashes. Not half a dozen men have ever been able to keep the whole equation of pictures in their heads.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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?
F. Scott Fitzgerald
It was about then [1920] that I wrote a line which certain people will not let me forget: She was a faded but still lovely woman of twenty-seven.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!
F. Scott Fitzgerald
He wanted to appear suddenly to her in novel and heroic colors. He wanted to stir her from that casualness she showed toward everything except herself.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I found something! Courage--just that courage as a rule of life and something to cling to always.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
I have asked a lot of my emotions-one hundred and twenty stories. The price was high, right up with Kipling, because there was one little drop of something, not blood, not a tear, not my seed, but me more intimately than these, in every story, it was the extra I had. Now it has gone and I am just like you now.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
interested, I mean, with that intense personal interest to which every one has some vague right at the end
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Most people think everybody feels about them much more violently than they actually do they think other people's opinions of them swing through great arcs of approval or disapproval.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
