Quotes – Page 265 | Just Great DataBase

In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He’d have loved it, all right. You see? Even death has a heart.

If we followed our feelings all the time, we’d be like cats chasin’ their tails.

Well, feel this, why don’t you? Feel how it feels to have a bed to sleep in and somebody there not worrying you to death about what you got to do each day to deserve it. Feel how that feels. And if that don’t get it, feel how it feels to be a colored woman roaming the roads with anything God made liable to jump on you. Feel that.

You said a bad driver is only safe until she met another bad driver? Well, I met another bad driver, didn’t I? I mean it was careless of me to make such a wrong guess. I thought you were rather an honest, straightforward person. I thought it was your secret pride.

I can’t describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport. I even hoped for a while that she’d throw me over, but she didn’t, because she was in love with me too. She thought I knew a lot because I knew different things from her.

You know the truth, and the truth is this: some Negroes lie, some Negroes are immoral, some Negro men are not to be trusted around women—black or white. But this is a truth that applies to the human race and to no particular race of men.

While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion.

Most of the big shore places were closed now. And there were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of the ferryboat across the sound. And as the moon rose higher, the inessential houses began to melt away till gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes, A fresh green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams. For a transitory, enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent. Face to face, for the last time in history, with something commensurate to its capacity for wonder.

Thought you could kill my Snow-on-the-Mountain, did you? Well, Jessie says that the top’s growing back out. Next time you’ll know how to do it right, won’t you? You’ll pull it up by the roots, won’t you?

After all, in the very casualness of Gatsby’s party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from her world.

La seule chose qui ne doive pas céder à la loi de la majorité est la conscience de l’individu

I wish, as well as every body else, to be perfectly happy; but, like every body else, it must be in my own way.

Bit by bit, at 124 and in the Clearing, along with others, she had claimed herself. Freeing yourself was one thing; claiming ownership of that freed self was another.

Indeed, in that sense we’re all rather often almost like mad people, only with the slight difference that the ‘sick’ are somewhat madder than we are, so that it’s necessary to draw a line here.

Involuntarily I glanced seaward and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby, he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.

One does not love breathing.

They were careless people, Tom and Daisy – they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people cleanup the mess they had made . . .

But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man is open; and a business man ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up.

And books! Thomson, Cowper, Scott – she would buy them all over and over again; she would buy up every copy, I believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands; and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree.

They knew very well why he hadn’t: because of the enormity of the knife descending and cutting into living flesh; because of the unbearable blood