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—to-morrow 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.
Raflara doğru ilerledi Stoddart Lectures kitabın birinci cildi ile geri döndü. "Görüyor musunuz?" diye bağırdı muzaffer bir edayla, "İşte hakiki bir kitap. Ne kadar yanılmışım . Bu adam tam bir Belasco!1 Bu büyük bir zafer. Ne zevkli ne güzel bir seçim! Hem haddini bilip sayfaları da kesip azaltmamış. Daha ne istenir ki?"1 David Belasco (1853 - 1931) Amerikalı Oyun yazarı. Devasa bir kütüphaneye sahipti.
Then Mr. McKee turned and continued on out the door. Taking 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.
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. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
– А куда нам девать себя вечером? – воскликнула Дэзи. – И завтра, и послезавтра, и в ближайшие тридцать лет?– Пожалуйста, не впадай в меланхолию, – сказала Джордан. – С первым осенним холодком жизнь начнется сначала.– Да, но сейчас так жарко, – настаивала Дэзи чуть не со слезами. – И все как в тумане. Знаете что, давайте пойдем в город!
– У Дэзи нескромный голос, – заметил я. – В нем звенит… – Я запнулся.– В нем звенят деньги, – неожиданно сказал он. Ну конечно же. Как я не понял раньше. Деньги звенели в этом голосе – вот что так пленяло в его бесконечных переливах, звон металла, победная песнь кимвал… Во дворце высоком, беломраморном, королевна, дева золотая…
Истината е, че Джей Гетсби от Уест Ег, Лонг Айлънд, се е родил от платоничното си схващане за самия себе си. Той бе син на бога - израз, който, ако означава нещо, означава именно това - и трябваше да върши същата работа, която върши небесният му баща, да служи на една широко разпространена вулгарна и евтина красота.
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 griefs of wild,
Und während ich so dasaß und jener alten, unbekannten Welt nachgrübelte, dachte ich an das Wunder, dem Gatsby sich gegenübersah, als er zum ersten Mal das grüne Licht am Ende von Daisys Pier erkannte. Er hatte einen langen Weg hinter sich bis zu diesem blauen Rasen, und sein Traum muss ihm so nah erschienen sein, dass er nur noch danach zu greifen brauchte. Er wusste nicht, dass er bereits hinter ihm lag, irgendwo inmitten des unermesslichen Dunkels jenseits der Stadt, wo sich die düsteren Felder des Landes unter dem Nachthimmel sich dehnten.Gatsby glaubte an das grüne Licht, an die verheißungsvolle Zukunft, die Jahr für Jahr vor uns zurückweicht. Gestern noch ist sie uns entkommen, aber was macht das schon - morgen laufen wir schneller, strecken die Arme noch weiter aus... Und eines herrlichen Morgens ...So legen wir uns in die Riemen, rudern gegen den Strom, und fortwährend zieht es uns zurück in die Vergangenheit.
walking down the street when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes of the year. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder. His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for
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 griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile