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I wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to cease to exist: a book of faith and small neat worlds and of people who live by the philosophies of popular songs.

Zelda Fitzgerald

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Zelda Fitzgerald
Age: 47 †
Born: 1900
Born: July 24
Died: 1948
Died: March 10
Artist
Autobiographer
Dancer
Journalist
Novelist
Painter
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Montgomery
Alabama
Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald
Zelda Sayre
Write
Exist
Philosophies
Beautiful
Songs
Neat
Live
Philosophy
Crafts
Book
Small
Worlds
Writing
Break
Popular
Heart
Faith
Cease
World
Wish
Hearts
People
Song
Soon

More quotes by Zelda Fitzgerald

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Women sometimes seem to share a quiet, unalterable dogma of persecution that endows even the most sophisticated of them with the inarticulate poignancy of the peasant.
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[The Sun Also Rises is about] bullfighting, bullslinging and bullsh[*]t.
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Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.
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Why do we spend years using up our bodies to nurture our minds with experience and find our minds turning then to our exhausted bodies for solace?
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I suppose all we can really share with people is a taste for the same kinds of weather.
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I play the radio and moon about...and dream of Utopias where its always July the 24th 1935, in the middle of summer forever.
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All I want to be is very young always and very irresponsible and to feel that my life is my own-to live and be happy and die in my own way to please myself
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“Everybody gives you belief for the asking,” she said to David, “and so few people give you anything more to believe in than your own belief—just not letting you down, that's all. It's so hard to find a person who accepts responsibilities beyond what you ask.' 'So easy to be loved - so hard to love.' David answered.
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It is the loose ends with which men hang themselves.
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Spinach and champagne. Going back to the kitchens at the old Waldorf. Dancing on the kitchen tables, wearing the chef's headgear. Finally, a crash and being escorted out by the house detectives.
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She felt the essence of herself pulled finer and smaller like those streams of spun glass that pull and stretch till there remains but a glimmering illusion. Neither falling nor breaking, the stream spins finer. She felt herself very small and ecstatic. Alabama was in love.
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Don't you think I was made for you? I feel like you had me ordered - and I was delivered to you - to be worn. I want you to wear me, like a watch-charm or a buttonhole bouquet.
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Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist.
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A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether.
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We get something to do and as soon as we've got it, it gets us.
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One illusion is as good as another.
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By the time a person has achieved years adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast and the moment has long since passed which determined the future.
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They hadn't much faith in travel, nor a great belief in a change of scene as a panacea for spiritual ills they were simply glad to be going.
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Women, despite the fact that nine out of ten of them go through life with a death-bed air either of snatching-the-last-moment or with martyr-resignation, do not die tomorrow--or the next day. They have to live on to any one of many bitter ends.
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We grew up founding our dreams on the infinite promise of American advertising.
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