Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you -- like music to the musician or Marxism to the Communist -- or else it is nothing, an empty, formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“His dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“There was a ripe mystery about it, a hint of bedrooms upstairs more beautiful and cool than other bedrooms, of gay and radiant activities… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I want you to take a red-hot bath as hot as you can bear it, and just relax your nerves. You can read in… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
Tireless passion, fierce jealousy, longing to possess and crush-these alone were left of all his love for Rosalind; these remained to him as payment… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I found something! Courage--just that; courage as a rule of life and something to cling to always. — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“Another dawn flung itself across the river; a belated taxi hurried along the street, its lamps still shining like burning eyes in a face… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“She plucked a twig and broke it, but she found no spring in it.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“I'm one of those people who go through the world giving other people thrills but getting few myself except those I read into men… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky. — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“He was good looking, "sort of distinguished when he wants to be", had a line, and was properly inconstant. In fact, he summed up… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
