F. Scott Fitzgerald
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, known professionally as F. Scott Fitzgerald, was an American novelist and short story writer, whose works are the paradigmatic writings of the Jazz Age. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century. Fitzgerald is considered a member of the "Lost Generation" of the 1920s. He finished four novels: This Side of Paradise, The Beautiful and Damned, The Great Gatsby, and Tender Is the Night. A fifth, unfinished novel, The...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth24 September 1896
CitySaint Paul, MN
CountryUnited States of America
In a few days I'll have lived one score and three days in this vale of tears. On I plod-always bored, often drunk, doing no penance for my faults-rather do I become more tolerant of myself from day to day, hardening my crystal heart with blasphemous humor and shunning only toothpicks, pathos, and poverty as being the three unforgivable things in life.
Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.
I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.
And in the end, we were all just humans...Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
Debut: the first time a young girl is seen drunk in public.
No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man can store up in his ghosty heart.
I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and profound.
The Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe
They were careless people, Tom and Daisy they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made
Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person.
Either you think or else others have to think for you and take power from you.
Nick, on the Buchanans: ""They were careless people, Tom and Daisy -- they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made
Daisy, gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor
Theyre a rotten crowd, I shouted across the lawn. Youre worth the whole damn bunch put together.'