Francis Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby

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    Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic 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 one fine morning—

    So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
    Dmitry Kuzmincompartió una citahace 4 días
    I’d hate to have him get anything on me
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    The living room was crowded to the doors with a set of tap-estried furniture entirely too large for it so that to move about was to stumble continually over scenes of ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The only picture was an over-enlarged photograph, apparently a hen sitting on a blurred rock. Looked at from a distance however the hen resolved itself into a bonnet and the countenance of a stout old lady beamed down into the room. Several old copies of
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    Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
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    Again a sort of apology arose to my lips.
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    “I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.”
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    He turned me around again, politely and abruptly.
    No Mecompartió una citahace 5 días
    CHAPTER I

    In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning
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    ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’
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    heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him; some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

    My family has been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city
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    frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parceled out unequally at birth.
    And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human
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    Francis Scott Fitzgerald
    The Great Gatsby

    CHAPTER I

    In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
    “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
    He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret
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    “An Oxford man!” He was incredulous. “Like hell he is! He wears a pink suit.”
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    Her voice is full of money
    .compartió una citahace 11 días
    my hat from the chandelier, I followed.

    “Come to lunch some day,” he suggested, as we groaned down in the elevator.

    “Where?”

    “Anywhere.”

    “Keep your hands off the lever,” snapped the elevator boy.

    “I beg your pardon,” said Mr. McKee with dignity, “I didn’t know I was touching it.”

    “All right,” I agreed, “I’ll be glad to.”

    … I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.
    .compartió una citahace 11 días
    Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand.
    .compartió una citahace 11 días
    “Do you live down on Long Island, too?” she inquired.

    “I live at West Egg.”

    “Really? I was down there at a party about a month ago. At a man named Gatsby’s. Do you know him?”

    “I live next door to him.”

    “Well, they say he’s a nephew or a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm’s. That’s where all his money comes from.”

    “Really?”

    She nodded.
    .compartió una citahace 11 días
    His wife was shrill, languid, handsome, and horrible
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    Mr. McKee was a pale, feminine man from the flat below. He had just shaved, for there was a white spot of lather on his cheekbone
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    The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white. 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. When she moved about there was an incessant clicking as innumerable pottery bracelets jingled up and down upon her arms. She came in with such a proprietary haste, and looked around so possessively at the furniture that I wondered if she lived here. But when I asked her she laughed immoderately, repeated my question aloud, and told me she lived with a girl friend at a hotel.
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