Quotes from F Scott Fitzgerald
If you write me letters, please let them be natural ones.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
They were both overwhelmed by the sudden flatness that comes over American travellers in quiet foreign places. No stimuli worked upon them, no voices called them from without, no fragments of their own thoughts came suddenly from the minds of others.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
I want to live where things happen on a big scale.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
With the awakening of his emotions, his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter grayness of his life.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
Almost painfully he took his eyes from her.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
Courage is a sort of insistence on the value of life and the worth of transient things.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
The feel of her head against his shoulder, of her familiar body, sent a shock of emotion over him. His arms holding her had a tendency to tighten around her.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
All thought usually reached the public after thirty years in some such form: The man on the street heard the conclusions of some dead genius through someone else's clever paradoxes and didactic epigrams.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
Again at eight o'clock, when the dark lanes of the Forties were five deep with throbbing taxicabs, bound for the theater district, I felt a sinking in my heart. Forms leaned together in the taxis as they waited, and voices sang, and there was laughter from unheard jokes, and lighted cigarettes outlined unintelligible gestures inside. Imagining that I, too, was hurrying toward gayety and sharing their intimate excitement, I wished them well.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
Either you think - or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.
- F Scott Fitzgerald
Her eyes in the half-light suggested night and violets, and for a moment he stirred again to that half-forgotten remoteness of the afternoon.
- F Scott Fitzgerald