Ah nerede o günler, gerçekten öldüğüm zaman, şöyle aklı başında biri çıkıp beni denize filan atıverse, ne iyi olurdu. Ne yaparlarsa yapsınlar da, beni lanet bir mezara tıkmasınlar. Pazar günleri millet gelip karnınızın üstüne bir sürü çiçek filan koyacak, daha bir sürü zırvalık. Öldükten sonra çiçeği kim ne yapsın?
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 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.
We are doomed Whatever days are left to us, we shall spend them alone. And we have heard of the corruption of solitude. We have torn ourselves from the truth which is our brother men, and there is no road back for us. and no redemption.We know these things, but we do not care. We care for nothing on earth. We are tired.