and floating in the Sound was a triangle of silver scales, trembling a little to the stiff, tinny drip of the banjoes on the lawn.
F. Scott FitzgeraldIt had seemed as close as a star to the moon.
F. Scott FitzgeraldMy own face had now assumed a deep tropical burn.
F. Scott FitzgeraldI had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
F. Scott FitzgeraldAnd as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler.
F. Scott FitzgeraldI have been drunk just twice in my life, and the second time was that afternoon…
F. Scott FitzgeraldHe hurried the phrase ‘educated at Oxord,’ or swallowed it, or choked on it, as though it had bothered him before.
F. Scott FitzgeraldWhile the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion.
F. Scott FitzgeraldHe literally glowed; without a word or a gesture of exultation a new well-being radiated from him and filled the little room.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThe truth was that Jay Gatsby of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his platonic conception of himself.
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