She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.
F. Scott FitzgeraldIt was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.
F. Scott FitzgeraldShe admired him; she was used to clutching her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.
F. Scott FitzgeraldJoan Crawford is doubtless the best example of the flapper, the girl you see in smart night clubs, gowned to the apex of sophistication, toying iced glasses with a remote, faintly bitter expression, dancing deliciously, laughing a great deal, with wide, hurt eyes. Young things with a talent for living.
F. Scott Fitzgerald