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I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged i...more

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I wish I had done everything on earth with you

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There’s a loneliness that only exists in one’s mind. The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, an...more

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Writers aren't exactly people.... They're a whole bunch of people trying to be one person.

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I could never be a Communist. I could never be regimented. I could never be told what to write.

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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 ...more

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In 1913, when Anthony Patch was twenty-five, two years were already gone since irony, the Holy Ghost of this later day, had, theoretically at least, d...more

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Understand now, I'm purely a fiction writer and do not profess to be an earnest student of political science, but I believe strongly that such a law a...more

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A writer must find his own grain, way, bent. ...He aspires to create new and original works. His way is alone. If he succumbs to ideologies, he turns ...more

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This general eclipse of ambition and determination and fortitude, all of the very qualities on which I have prided myself, is ridiculous, and, I must ...more

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She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her ey...more

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Many times he had tried unsuccessfully to let go his hold on her. They had many fine times together, fine talks between the loves of the white nights,...more

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You've got an awfully kissable mouth.

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He was in love with every pretty woman he saw now, their forms at a distance, their shadows on the walls.

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Their lips brushed like young wild flowers in the wind.