I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALDAt eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.
More F. Scott Fitzgerald Quotes
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And in the end, we were all just humans, Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
We all have souls of different ages.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
There’s no substitute for will. Sometimes you have to fake will when you don’t feel it at all.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
I suppose books mean more than people to me anyway
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Intelligence is measured by a person’s ability to see validity within both sides of contradicting arguments.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Either you think, or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Experience is the name so many people give to their mistakes.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
I’m not sure what I’ll do, but— well, I want to go places and see people. I want my mind to grow. I want to live where things happen on a big scale.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Life is essentially a cheat and its conditions are those of defeat; the redeeming things are not happiness and pleasure but the deeper satisfactions that come out of struggle.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
Long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD -
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD