There seemed to be some heavenly support beneath his shoulder blades that lifted his feet from the ground in ecstatic suspension, as if he secretly enjoyed the ability to fly but was walking as a compromise to convention. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
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. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
A vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“Goodnight dear. If you were in my bed it might be the back of your head I was touching, where the hair is short,… — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I play the radio and moon about...and dream of Utopias where its always July the 24th 1935, in the middle of summer forever. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
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… — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I suppose all we can really share with people is a taste for the same kinds of weather. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“Everybody gives you belief for the asking,” she said to David, “and so few people give you anything more to believe in than your… — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
