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without you, dearest dearest I couldn't see or hear or feel or think - or live - I love you so and I'm never in all our lives going to let us be apart another night.

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
Never
Lives
Love
Night
Think
Another
Thinking
Live
Without
Dearest
Feel
Apart
Feels
Couldn
Going
Hear

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I don't want to live. I want to love first, and live incidentally.
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Death is the only real elegance.
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Nothing could have survived our life.
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We grew up founding our dreams on the infinite promise of American advertising. I still believe that one can learn to play the piano by mail and that mud will give you a perfect complexion.
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It's terrible to allow conventional habits to gain a hold on a whole household to eat, sleep and live by clock ticks.
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I take a sun bath and listen to the hours, formulating, and disintegrating under the pines, and smell the resiny hardihood of the high noon hours. The world is lost in a blue haze of distances, and the immediate sleeps in a thin and finite sun.
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Mr. Fitzgerald-I believe that is how he spells his name-seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.
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Oh, we are going to be so happy away from all the things that almost got us but couldn't quite because we were too smart for them!
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I can't read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.
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Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist.
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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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Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
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