I wish we could spend July by the sea, browning ourselves and feeling water-weighted hair flow behind us from a dive. I… — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows… — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows. — Zelda Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
I take a sun bath and listen to the hours, formulating, and disintegrating under the pines, and smell the resiny hardihood of… — 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
