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A vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it.

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
Science
Things
Enclose
Vacuums
Vacuum
Exist
Imagine

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Life has puffed and blown itself into a summer day, and clouds and spring billow over the heavens as if calendars were a listing of mathematical errors.
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Why is there happiness and comfort and excitement where you are and no where else in the world.
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One illusion is as good as another.
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I believed I was a salamander, and it seems I am nothing but an impediment.
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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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She quietly expected great things to happen to her, and no doubt that’s one of the reasons why they did.
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I am really only myself when I'm somebody else whom I have endowed with these wonderful qualities from my imagination.
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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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Nothing could have survived our life.
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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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Mr. Fitzgerald-I believe that is how he spells his name-seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.
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Pronunciation has made many an innocent word sound like a doctor's orders for a stomach pump.
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I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows near old walls and that your hands are beautiful opening out of your sleeves and that the back of your head is a mossy sheltered cave when there is trouble in the wind and that my cheek just fits the depression in your shoulder.
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And only weaklings...who lack courage and the power to feel they're right when the whole world says they're wrong, ever lose.
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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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It seems to me that on one page I recognized a portion of an old diary of mine which mysteriously disappeared shortly after my marriage, and, also, scraps of letters which, though considerably edited, sound to me vaguely familiar. In fact, Mr. Fitzgerald (I believe that is how he spells his name) seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.
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Maybe other people's ideas of us are truer than our own.
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I don't want to live. I want to love first, and live incidentally.
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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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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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