Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.

Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay. And just as any period decays in our minds, the things of that period should decay too, and in that way they're preserved for a while in the few hearts like mine that react to them. Trying to preserve a century by keeping its relics up to date is like keeping a dying man alive by stimulants.

He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.

The afternoon had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory for the long parting the next day promised.

She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.

I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this lawn and 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. [- Nick Carroway]

So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.