— F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Sensible Thing”
76. In utter weariness he asked her once in different words, “Then where do you go from here—where do you turn?”
“Toward life,” she said “Toward life,” and turned toward him.
247. The lights of many battleships drifting like water jewels upon the dark Hudson.
520. A girl who could send tear-stained telegrams.
537. Emily, who was twenty-five and carried space around with her into which he could step and be alone with their two selves.
687. Family like the last candies left in a dish.
903. As if heart and brain had been removed and were kept in a canopic vase.
1024. Resent the attempt of the boys and girls who tried to bury me before I was dead.
1029. I can never remember the times when I wrote anything—This Side of Paradise time or Beautiful and Damned and Gatsby time for instance. Lived in story.
1206. The awful reverberating thunder of his absence.
1247. Young people do not perceive at once that the giver of wounds is the enemy and the quoted tattle merely the arrow.
1325. Zelda’s idea: the bad things are the same in everyone; only the good are different.
1362. I left my capacity for hoping on the little roads that led to Zelda’s sanitarium.
1363. There’s quite a case for self-pity—save for that, I’d long ago have died of pitying you.
1454. The pathos of “Now I am Complete.”
1489. “I would like to enjoy,” said the man, “but I can only hope and remember. What the hell—leave me my reactions even though they’re faint beside yours. Let me see things my own way.”
“You mean you don’t want me to talk?”
“I mean we come up here and before I can register, before I can realise that this is the Atlantic Ocean, you’ve analyzed it like a chemist, like a chemist who painted, or a painter who studied chemistry, and it’s all diminished.”
1535. She had never done anything for love before. She didn’t know what it meant. When her hand struck the bulb she still didn’t know it, nor while the shattered glass made a nuisance by the bedside.
1538. NOSTALGIA OR THE FLIGHT OF THE HEART.
1599. (A Ballet Synopsis) by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Summary: Some Russians and the dance, before the war. Heartburn in a village. The dancing characters are moved by fate to post-war Paris.
1740. For she has a good forgetting apparatus. That’s why she’s so popular; why she can have a heart like a hotel. If she couldn’t forget, there wouldn’t be any room.
1822. Two people go away—and they take it along with them. Silence falls—nobody has any lines. Silence and trying not to guess behind the silence—imitating how it was before, and more silence—and big wrinkles in the heart.
1851. A feeling of having had life pass virtually and endlessly before their eyes like a motion picture reel.
1867. Tragedy of these men was that nothing in their lives had really bitten deep at all.
1878. You’re all the songs.