Best 975 of F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes - MyQuotes

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F. Scott Fitzgerald
By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

America is a willingness of the heart.

By Anonym 18 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

For years afterwards when Amory thought of Eleanor he seemed still to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into the places beside his heart. The night when they rode up the slope and watched the cold moon float through the clouds, he lost a further part of him that nothing could restore; and when he lost it he lost also the power of regretting it.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Reporting the extreme things as if they were the average things will start you on the art of fiction.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

You can’t repeat the past.” “Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Está bien", dije, "estoy agradecida de que sea una niña. Y espero que ella sea una tonta... eso es lo mejor que puede ser una niña en este mundo, una tontita hermosa...

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Think how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.' You'll always be like this to me.' Oh no; but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Good luck to you and bad luck to your theories.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

All I think of ever is that I love you.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

No matter how low you go, there's always an unexplored basement.

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

He felt that to succeed here the idea of success must grasp and limit his mind.

By Anonym 19 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

There's only one lesson to be learned form life, anyway," interrupted Gloria, not in contradiction but in a sort of melancholy agreement. "What's that?" demanded Maury sharply. "That there's no lesson to be learned from life.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Youth is like having a big plate of candy. Sentimentalists think they want to be in the pure, simple state they were in before they ate the candy. They don't. They just want the fun of eating it all over again.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

It is not merely enough to have the ability to be persistant, you must also have the ability to start over.

By Anonym 18 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

The last swimmers have come in from the beach now and are dressing upstairs; the cars from New York are parked five deep in the drive, and already the halls and salons and verandas are gaudy with primary colours, and hair bobbed in strange new ways...

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

The easiest way to get a reputation is to go outside the fold, shout around for a few years as a violent atheist or a dangerous radical, and then crawl back to the shelter.

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

It was late morning when he woke and found the telephone beside his bed in the hotel tolling frantically, and remembered that he had left word to be called at eleven. Sloane was snoring heavily, his clothes in a pile by his bed. They dressed and ate breakfast in silence, and then sauntered out to get some air. Amory's mind was working slowly, trying to assimilate what had happened and separate from the chaotic imagery that stacked his memory the bare shreds of truth. If the morning had been cold and gray he could have grasped the reins of the past in an instant, but it was one of those days that New York gets sometimes in May, when the air of Fifth Avenue is a soft, light wine. How much or how little Sloane remembered Amory did not care to know; he apparently had none of the nervous tension that was gripping Amory and forcing his mind back and forth like a shrieking saw.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

You are mysterious, I love you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that’s the rarest known combination.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

He was resentful against all those in authority over him, and this, combined with a lazy indifference toward his work, exasperated every master in school. He grew discouraged and imagined himself a pariah; took to sulking in corners and reading after lights. With a dread of being alone he attached a few friends, but since they were not among the elite of the school, he used them simply as mirrors of himself, audiences before which he might do that posing absolutely essential to him. He was unbearably lonely, desperately unhappy.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

he could transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

He dispensed starlight to casual moths.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Before I go on with this short history, let me make a general observation– the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise. This philosophy fitted on to my early adult life, when I saw the improbable, the implausible, often the "impossible," come true.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I never blame failure - there are too many complicated situations in life - but I am absolutely merciless toward lack of effort.

By Anonym 19 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

We'll all be failures?" "Yes. I don't mean only money failures, but just sort of - of ineffectual and sad, and - oh, how can I tell you?

By Anonym 17 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Oh, he was a pretentious fool, making careers out of cocktails and meanwhile regretting, weakly and secretly, the collapse of an insufficient and wretched idealism. He had garnished his soul in the subtlest taste and now he longed for the old rubbish. He was empty, it seemed, empty as an old bottle —

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the 'Yale News.'—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the 'well-rounded man.' This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

It was as if for the remainder of his life he was condemned to carry with him the egos of certain people, early met and early loved, and to be only as complete as they were complete themselves. There was some element of loneliness involved--so easy to be loved--so hard to love.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

If you are strong enough, there are no precedents.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from life.

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

He smiled understandingly-much more than understanding. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. That's my middle-west - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure and the memory so possessed him that for the moment there was nothing to do but to pretend.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

What a wonderful song, she thought-everything was wonderful tonight, most of all this romantic scene in the den with their hands clinging and the inevitable looming charmingly close. The future vista of her life seemed an unending succession of scenes like this: under moonlight and pale starlight, and in the backs of warm limousines and in low cosy roadsters stopped under sheltering trees-only the boy might change, and this one was so nice.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

And he could not tell why the struggle was worthwhile, why he had determined to use the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed... He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. I know myself," he cried, "But that is all.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

We all have souls of different ages

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Very well then, better a sane crook than a mad puritan.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

C'mon, Amory. Your romance is over You don't know how true you spoke. No idea. 'At's the whole trouble

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Life is progressive, no matter what our intentions.

By Anonym 19 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

The soft rush of taxis by him, and laughter, laughters hoarse as a crow's, incessant and loud, with the rumble of the subways underneath - and over all, the revolutions of light, the growings and recedings of light - light dividing like pearls - forming and reforming in glittering bars and circles and monstrous grotesque figures cut amazingly on the sky.

By Anonym 19 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden-shears, repairing the ravages of the night before. Every Friday five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York--every Monday these same oranges and lemons left his back door in a pyramid of pulpless halves. There was a machine in the kitchen which could extract the juice of two hundred oranges in half an hour if a little button was pressed two hundred times by a butler's thumb. At least once a fortnight a corps of caterers came down with several hundred feet of canvas and enough colored lights to make a Christmas tree of Gatsby's enormous garden. On buffet tables, garnished with glistening hors-d'oeuvre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark gold. In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his female guests were too young to know one from another. By seven o'clock the orchestra has arrived, no thin five-piece affair, but a whole pitful of oboes and trombones and saxophones and viols and cornets and piccolos, and low and high drums. The last swimmers have come in from the beach now and are dressing up-stairs; the cars from New York are parked five deep in the drive, and already the halls and salons and verandas are gaudy with primary colors, and hair shorn in strange new ways, and shawls beyond the dreams of Castile. The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other's names. The lights grow brighter as the earth lurches away from the sun, and now the orchestra is playing yellow cocktail music, and the opera of voices pitches a key higher. Laughter is easier minute by minute, spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word. The groups change more swiftly, swell with new arrivals, dissolve and form in the same breath; already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, joyous moment the centre of a group, and then, excited with triumph, glide on through the sea-change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing light. Suddenly one of the gypsies, in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage and, moving her hands like Frisco, dances out alone on the canvas platform. A momentary hush; the orchestra leader varies his rhythm obligingly for her, and there is a burst of chatter as the erroneous news goes around that she is Gilda Gray's understudy from the FOLLIES. The party has begun.

By Anonym 15 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

When people are taken out of their depths they lose their heads, no matter how charming a bluff they may put up.

By Anonym 14 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Rosemary bubbled with delight at the trunks. Her naivete responded whole-heartedly to the expensive simplicity of the Divers, unaware of its complexity and its lack of innocence, unaware that it was all a selection of quality rather than quantity from the run of the world's bazaar; and that the simplicity of behavior also, the nursery-like peace and good will, the emphasis on the simpler virtues, was part of a desperate bargain with the gods and had been attained through struggles she could not have guessed at.

By Anonym 16 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Isabelle and Amory were distinctly not innocent, nor were they particularly brazen. Moreover, amateur standing had very little value in the game they were playing, a game that would presumably be her principal study for years to come. She had begun as he had, with good looks and an excitable temperament, and the rest was the result of accessible popular novels and dressing-room conversation culled from a slightly older set. Isabelle had walked with an artificial gait at nine and a half, and when her eyes, wide and starry, proclaimed the ingenue most. Amory was proportionately less deceived. He waited for the mask to drop off, but at the same time he did not question her right to wear it. She, on her part, was not impressed by his studied air of blasé sophistication. She had lived in a larger city and had slightly an advantage in range. But she accepted his pose--it was one of the dozen little conventions of this kind of affair. He was aware that he was getting this particular favor now because she had been coached; he knew that he stood for merely the best game in sight, and that he would have to improve his opportunity before he lost his advantage. So they proceeded with an infinite guile that would have horrified her parents.

By Anonym 13 Sep

F. Scott Fitzgerald

He must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees.