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F. Scott Fitzgerald

F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes

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Famous F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes

“Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.”

“My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.”

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”

“You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.”

“Of the things they possessed in common, greatest of all was their almost uncanny pull at each others hearts.”

“I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.”

“I'm merely trying to give you the sort of argument that would appeal to your intelligence.”

“You are mysterious, I love you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that’s the rarest known combination.”

“Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again. When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.”

“...their eyes are full of kindness as each feels the full effect of novelty after a short separation. They are drawing a relaxation from each other's presence, a new serenity.”

“I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.”

“People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.”

“The afternoon had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory for the long parting the next day promised.”

“When she saw him face to face their eyes met and brushed like birds’ wings. After that everything was all right, everything was wonderful, she knew that he was beginning to fall in love with her.”

“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?”

“She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.”

“Kiss me now, love me now.”

“Dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes one nervous.”

“A love affair is like a short story--it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The beginning was easy, the middle might drag, invaded by commonplace, but the end, instead of being decisive and well knit with that element of revelatory surprise as a well-written story should be, it usually dissipated in a succession of messy and humiliating anticlimaxes.”

“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.”

“As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently an knowledge of his movements that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table--the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone.”

“Well, you never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people's lives.”

“Long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.”

“He looked at her and for a moment she lived in the bright blue worlds of his eyes, eagerly and confidently.”

“They were still in the happier stages of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered.”

“There's no substitute for will. Sometimes you have to fake will when you don't feel it at all.”

“I don't like girls in the daytime,' he said shortly, and then thinking this a bit abrupt, he added: 'But I like you.' He cleared his throat. 'I like you first and second and third.”

“I'll never be a poet,' said Amory as he finished. 'I'm not enough of a sensualist really; there are only a few obvious things that I notice as primarily beautiful: women, spring evenings, music at night, the sea; I don't catch the subtle things like 'silver-snarling trumpets.' I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never right anything but mediocre poetry.”

“She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game”

“There was a kindliness about intoxication - there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.”