Quotes from F. Scott Fitzgerald

He was her DARK FAIRYTALE and She was his TWISTED FANTASY. Together they made MAGIC.

I knew that what was left of me would always love you, but never in quite the same way.

The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.

I'm a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires---- You are not! She brought one little fist down onto the other. You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.

Any person with any imagination is bound to be afraid.

As he put in his studs he realized that he was enjoying life as he would probably never enjoy it again. Everything was hallowed by the haze of his own youth. He had arrived, abreast of the best in his generation at Princeton. He was in love and his love was returned.

Until the great mobs could be educated into a moral sense, someone must cry: Thou shalt not!

There are no second acts in American lives.

I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and profound.

Suddenly he was inside the radius of her perfume and kissing her breathlessly.

Once we were one person, and always it will be a little that way.

Something bright and alien flashed across the sky... and for a moment people set down their glasses in country clubs and speakeasies and thought of their old best dreams. Maybe there was a way out by flying, maybe our restless blood could find frontiers in the illimitable air. But by that time we were all pretty well committed; and the Jazz Age continued; we would all have one more.

I wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words.

Irony was the final polish of the shoe, the ultimate dab of the clothes-brush, a sort of intellectual There!

But an inferior talent can only be graceful when it's carrying inferior ideas. And the more narrowly you can look at a thing the more entertaining you can be about it.

Work like hell! I had 122 rejection slips before I sold a story.

At the gray tea hour there were always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever, while fresh faces drifted here and there like rose petals blown by the sad horns around the floor.

Is your underwear purple, too?

It's so hard to find a male to gratify one's artistic tastes.

There! she said, as she spread the tablecloth and put the sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. Don't they look tempting? I always think that food tastes better outdoors. With that remark, remarked Kismine, Jasmine enters the Middle class.

Most of us are content to exist and breed and fight for the right to do both, and the dominant idea, the foredoomed attest to control one's destiny, is reserved for the fortunate or unfortunate few.

A pause; it endured horribly.

I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses—

You're very polite, but I belong to another generation