Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again. When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.
F. Scott Fitzgeraldbut there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.
F. Scott FitzgeraldYou canโt repeat the past.โ โCanโt repeat the past?โ he cried incredulously. โWhy of course you can!
F. Scott FitzgeraldDo you ever wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it!
F. Scott FitzgeraldHere was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a revery of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that dirty gray turmoil to follow love and pride; a new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThen a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled, and as he saw her smile every rag of anger and hurt vanity dropped from him โ as though his very moods were but the outer ripples of her own, as though emotion rose no longer in his breast unless she saw fit to pull an omnipotent controlling thread.
F. Scott Fitzgerald