From the ruins, lonely and inexplicable as the sphinx, rose the Empire State Building.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThe Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.
F. Scott FitzgeraldHe was resentful against all those in authority over him, and this, combined with a lazy indifference toward his work, exasperated every master in school. He grew discouraged and imagined himself a pariah; took to sulking in corners and reading after lights. With a dread of being alone he attached a few friends, but since they were not among the elite of the school, he used them simply as mirrors of himself, audiences before which he might do that posing absolutely essential to him. He was unbearably lonely, desperately unhappy.
F. Scott Fitzgerald