There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams — not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
I don’t reblog or repost any quotes from F. Scott Fitzgerald anymore in fear that all the man ever said was actually him just retelling his wife’s thoughts, only louder and as a man.
Face first into the point and still missed it, but proved me right
“Pensa in questo momento quanto mi ami. Non ti chiedo di amarmi sempre così, ma ti chiedo di ricordare. Nascosta dentro di me ci sarà sempre la persona che sono stasera.”
