The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome.
Zelda FitzgeraldI wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to cease to exist: a book of faith and small neat worlds and of people who live by the philosophies of popular songs.
Zelda FitzgeraldBy the time a person has achieved years adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast and the moment has long since passed which determined the future.
Zelda Fitzgerald