Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.
F. Scott FitzgeraldI wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words.
F. Scott FitzgeraldOne writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual.
F. Scott FitzgeraldHe was going to live in New York, and be known at every restaurant and café, wearing a dress suit from early evening to early morning, sleeping away the dull hours of the forenoon.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThen there came a faraway, booming voice like a low, clear bell. It came from the center of the bowl and down the great sides to the ground and then bounced toward her eagerly. 'You see I am fate,' it shouted, 'and stronger than your puny plans; and I am how-things-turn-out and I am different from your little dreams, and I am the flight of time and the end of beauty and unfulfilled desire; all the accidents and imperceptions and the little minutes that shape the crucial hours are mine. I am the exception that proves no rules, the limits of your control, the condiment in the dish of life.
F. Scott Fitzgerald