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.
F. Scott FitzgeraldVitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.
F. Scott FitzgeraldIn short, you have only your emotions to sell. This is the experience of all writers.
F. Scott Fitzgerald