Switzerland is a country where very few things begin, but many things end. F. Scott Fitzgerald More Quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald More Quotes From F. Scott Fitzgerald This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. From the western half of the sky the sun was shying little golden disks at the sea--if you gazed intently enough you could see them skip from wave tip to wave tip until they joined a broad collar of golden coin that was collecting half a mile out and would eventually be a dazzling sunset. F. Scott Fitzgerald eyedreamchildren I hope something happens. I'm restless as the devil and have a horror of getting fat or falling in love and growing domestic. F. Scott Fitzgerald devilgrowingfalling-in-love When I see a beautiful shell like that I can't help feeling a regret about what's inside it. F. Scott Fitzgerald regretfeelingsbeautiful What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours? F. Scott Fitzgerald hourscallingsong Someday I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go. F. Scott Fitzgerald let-him-gosomedayand-love She was incurably dishonest. F. Scott Fitzgerald Stahr's eyes and Kathleen's met and tangled. For an instant they made love as no one ever dares to do after. Their glance was slower than an embrace, more urgent than a call. F. Scott Fitzgerald tangledembraceeye He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back anymore. The gates were closed, the sun was down, and there was no beauty left but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of youth, of illusion, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished. F. Scott Fitzgerald growing-updreamcountry he could transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour. F. Scott Fitzgerald incidentscurves Her beauty climbed the rolling slope, it came into the room, rustling ghost-like through the curtains. F. Scott Fitzgerald her-beautyrollingrooms but they were frightened at his survivant will, once a will to live, now become a will to die. F. Scott Fitzgerald will-to-livefrighteneddies I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade. F. Scott Fitzgerald thirtydecades It is not necessarily poverty of spirit that makes a woman surround herself with life - it can be a superabundance of interest. F. Scott Fitzgerald tender-is-the-nightpovertyspirit When the lightning strikes one of us, it strikes both F. Scott Fitzgerald lightningstrikes He's sensitive and I don't want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn't care about him. F. Scott Fitzgerald carewantheart Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired on that June night. He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour. F. Scott Fitzgerald starsjunenight Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete. F. Scott Fitzgerald great-gatsby-lovelipsflower They weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale---and yet they weren't unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together. F. Scott Fitzgerald unhappyairtogether ...one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture. F. Scott Fitzgerald objectsemotionfaces Tireless passion, fierce jealousy, longing to possess and crush-these alone were left of all his love for Rosalind; these remained to him as payment for the loss of his youth-bitter calomel under the thin sugar of love's exaltation. F. Scott Fitzgerald crushpassionloss
