Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

All I think of ever is that I love you.

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.

I can’t tell you just how wonderful she is. I don’t want you to know. I don’t want any one to know.

The best of America drifts to Paris. The American in Paris is the best American.

Never miss a party...good for the nerves--like celery.

She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself