1,417 Quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Of course all life is a process of breaking down, but the blows that do the dramatic side of the work-the big sudden blows that come, or seem to come, from outside-the ones you remember and blame things on and, in moments of weakness, tell your friends about, don't show their effect all at once.

All life was transmitted into terms of their love, all experience, all desires, all ambitions, were nullified - their senses of humour crawled into corners to sleep;

Sometimes, when he was particularly loquacious, she went to sleep in his arms, but he loved that Rosalind—all Rosalinds—as he had never in the world loved any one else. Intangibly fleeting, unrememberable hours.

He cared only about people; he was scarcely conscious of places except for their weather, until they had been invested with color by tangible events.

They were all tall and slender with heads groomed like manikins' heads, and as they talked the heads waved gracefully above their dark tailored suits, rather like long-stemmed flowers and rather like cobras' hoods.

You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.

Afterwards, he just sat, happy to live in the past. The drink made past happy things contemporary with the present, as if they were still going on, contemporary even with the future as if they were about to happen again.

Non riuscivo a perdonarlo e neanche trovarlo simpatico, ma capii che dal suo punto di vista ciò che aveva fatto era pienamente giustificato. Era stato tutto molto sbadato e pasticciato. Erano gente sbadata, Tom e Daisy: sfracellavano cose e persone e poi si ritiravano nel loro denaro o nella loro ampia sbadataggine o in ciò che comunque li teneva uniti, e lasciavano che altri mettessero a posto il pasticcio che avevano fatto.

He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back anymore. The gates were closed, the sun was down, and there was no beauty left but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of youth, of illusion, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.