But women marry all their husbands’ talents and naturally, afterwards, are not so impressed with them as they may keep up the pretense of being.
Gatsby looked at Daisy in a way that every young girl wanted to be looked at.
Where are you from?” inquired Anthony. He knew, but beauty had rendered him thoughtless.
It was this night that he told me the strange story of his youth with Dan Cody – told it to me because “Jay Gatsby” had broken up like glass against Tom’s hard malice, and the long secret extravaganza was played out.
I spent my Saturday nights in New York, because those gleaming, dazzling parties of his were with me so vividly that I could still hear the music and the laughter, faint and incessant, from his garden, and the cars going up and down his drive.
Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle, but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face.
They were tougher and.
Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty.
She did not plan; she merely let herself go, and the overwhelming life in her did the rest.
Tom. “I’d like to.
Part of the enchantment of Paris in the Twenties was that everything that happened there seemed to have something to do with art.
I’m sharing the fate of the women of my time who challenged men to battle.
Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others – poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner – young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.
He was his wife’s man and not his own.
You don’t have to dance – just get out there on the floor and shake.
She began to cry – she cried and cried. I rushed out and found her mother’s maid, and we locked the door and got her into a cold bath.
Outside the wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along the Sound. All the lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain from New York. It was the hour of a profound human change, and excitement was generating on the air.
And afterward tracing down the hot sinister shin of the Italian boot with the wind soughing around those eerie castles, the dead watching from up on those hills.
That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” said Tom sharply. “What is?” “All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?
My life, my life has to be like this. It has to keep going up.