Her fresh enthusiasm, her will to grow and learn, her endless faith in the inexhaustibility of romance, her courage and fundamental honesty – these things are not spoiled.
He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...
But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesque and fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night. A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock ticked on the washstand and the moon soaked with wet light his tangled clothes upon the floor.
Roger Button’s silent agreement with himself to believe in his son’s normality.
She danced exceptionally well, drew cleverly but hastily, and had a startling facility with words, which she used only in love letters.
There were days when Amory resented that life had changed from an even progress along a road stretching ever in sight, with the scenery merging and blending, into a succession of quick, unrelated scenes...
The registrar pointed sternly to the door. ‘Get out,’ he said. ‘Get out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic.
The unfortunate part is that the only men who interest me at all are the totally ineligible ones.
Sometimes when I’ve felt particularly radiant I’ve though, why should this be wasted on one man.
Our thoughts were frosty mist along the eaves; our two ghosts kissed, high on the long, mazed wires – eerie half-laughter echoes here and leaves only a fatuous sigh for young desires; regret has followed after things she loved, leaving the great husk.
Es inevitablemente triste mirar con nuevos ojos cosas a las que ya hemos aplicado nuestra propia capacidad de enfoque.
A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless color of platinum, and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter.
When I meet a man that doesn’t bore me to death after two weeks, perhaps it’ll be different.
Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay.
The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea. “Look at that,” she whispered, and then after a moment: “I’d like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.
I’m yours – you know it.
Blind with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning.
But the brilliance, the versatility of madness is akin to the resourcefulness of water seeping through, over, and around a dike.
She looked up at him as he took a step toward the door; she looked at him without the slightest idea as to what was in his head, she saw him take another step in slow motion, turn and look at her again, and she wanted for a moment to hold him and devour him, wanted his mouth, his ears, his coat collar, wanted to surround him and engulf him.
For a full minute, our bowels were one with the bowels of the earth – like some nightmare attempt to attach our naval cords again and jerk us back to the womb of creation.” -Cecelia Brady describing the earthquake.