Gatsby Quotes

Take off that darn fur coat!...Or maybe you'd like to have us open all the windows.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Believe me, I may be a bit blasé, but I can still get any man I want.

I’d once again see that bob of blonde hair back on my pillow, that pink hot smile beaming toward me as I heroically win her heart in some kind of Count of Monte Cristo or Great Gatsby-esque gesture… you know minus the long imprisonment or swimming pool death!

It's all life is. Just going 'round kissing people.

That year, a middle-aged acquaintance asked me what my favorite book was and I said "On the Road." He smiled, said, "That was my favorite book at sixteen." At the time , I thought he was patronizing me, that it was going to be my favorite book forever and ever, amen. But he was right. As an adult, I'm more of a Gatsby girl-more tragic, more sad, just as interested in what America costs as what it has to offer.

Every year, when we finished Gatsby, I read the last page aloud. Also, every year, I wept... I almost looked forward to it. Crying once a year is probably necessary... it was involuntary, almost external, like being rained on, a nourishment, and it made me glad that I could feel that deeply, or had once.

I want you to lie to me just as sweetly as you know how for the rest of my life.

I wouldn't ask too much of her," I ventured. "You can't change the past.""Can't change the past?" he cried incredulously. "Why of course you can!

If this were a fairy tale, this would be the part where the fishboy appears and Diana shoots him through the heart. Because he is a tragic hero, he's our fucking Gatsby, and he lived for his fish and he has to die for his fish. He would never let my fake authority, condoning his abandonment, making up rules about what's okay just to save his life, convince him to give up his family. He would never leave.He would know that without him, none of us will be as good. Me, without a friend; and the fish, without a brother; and the island, without a story; and Diana, without her something real, we will all be a little bit less than we were before we knew him.So he wouldn't leave. Not until I could come with him. And I have never been less able to leave than I am now.But this isn't a fairy tale, and he doesn't appear. We stand here for a long time.He really left.Because it was all that we could do.

Never miss a party...good for the nerves--like celery.

In my opinion, Fiction is a figment of our imagination & it causes us to dream but Reality taints dreams, and the F.scott Fitzgerald has clearly depicted this in The Great Gatsby.

My courage is faith--faith in the eternal resilience of me--that joy'll come back, and hope and spontaneity. And I feel that till it does I've got to keep my lips shut and my chin high and my eyes wide--not necessarily any silly smiling. Oh, I've been through hell without a whine quite often--and the female hell is deadlier than the male.

I hope I haven't given you the impression that I consider kissing intrinsically irrational.

Go on, she urged. Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.

It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor.

no girl can permanently bolster up a lame-duck visitor, because these day it's every girl for herself.

I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me.

They’re a rotten crowd’, I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.

I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife.

I wouldn't ask too much of her,' I ventured. 'You can't change the past.''Can't change the past?' he cried incredulously. 'Why of course you can!

She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.