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I can't read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.

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
Money
Constantly
Without
Despair
Youth
Dead
Sleep
Read
Hope
Wish
Wishing

More quotes by Zelda Fitzgerald

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Scott-there's nothing in the world I want but you-and your precious love. All the material things are nothing. I'd just hate to live in a sordid, colorless existence-because you'd soon love less-and less-and I'd do anything-anything-to keep your heart for my own-I don't want to live-I want to love first and live incidentally.
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Looking for love is like asking for a new point of departure ... another chance in life.
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She refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring.
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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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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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I suppose all we can really share with people is a taste for the same kinds of weather.
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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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memories should be sharp when one has nothing else to live for
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Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist.
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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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Most people hew the battlements of life from compromise, erecting their impregnable keeps from judicious submissions, fabricating their philosophical drawbridges from emotional retractions and scalding marauders in the boiling oil of sour grapes.
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Father said conflict develops the character
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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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Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.
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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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I don't want to live. I want to love first, and live incidentally.
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Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
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There's nothing on earth to do here but look at the view and eat. You can imagine the result since I do not like to look at views.
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The night you gave me my birthday party... you were a young Lieutenant and I was a fragrant phantom, wasn't I? And it was a radiant night, a night of soft conspiracy and the trees agreed that it was all going to be for the best.
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Other people's ideas of us are dependent largely on what they've hoped for.
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