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 taking place through its corridors and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year's shining motor cars and of dances whose flowers were… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share
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
