I want to do everything in the world with you.

I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.

He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was.

I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry.

The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty.

His dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him.

Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply.