I don't think he was ever happy unless someone was in love with him, responding to him like filings to a magnet, helping him to explain himself, promising him something. What it was I do not know. Perhaps they promised that there would always be women in the world who would spend their brightest, freshest, rarest hours to nurse and protect that superiority he cherished in his heart.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThe bottle of whiskey - the second one - was now in constant demand by all present, excepting Catherine, who 'felt just as good on nothing at all.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThere is a momentโOh, just before the first kiss, a whispered wordโsomething that makes it worth while.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThis is what I think now: that the natural state of the sentient adult is a qualified unhappiness.
F. Scott Fitzgerald