Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
ZELDA FITZGERALDSomething in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
ZELDA FITZGERALDWhy should all life be work, when we all can borrow. Let’s think only of today, and not worry about tomorrow.
ZELDA FITZGERALDNothing could have survived our life.
ZELDA FITZGERALDWhy do we spend years using up our bodies to nurture our minds with experience and find our minds turning then to our exhausted bodies for solace?
ZELDA FITZGERALDLife has puffed and blown itself into a summer day, and clouds and spring billow over the heavens as if calendars were a listing of mathematical errors.
ZELDA FITZGERALDI can’t read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.
ZELDA FITZGERALDI believed I was a salamander, and it seems I am nothing but an impediment.
ZELDA FITZGERALDWe get something to do and as soon as we’ve got it, it gets us.
ZELDA FITZGERALDLook closer and you’ll see something extraordinary, mystifying, something real and true. We have never been what we seemed.
ZELDA FITZGERALDMaybe other people’s ideas of us are truer than our own.
ZELDA FITZGERALDOther people’s ideas of us are dependent largely on what they’ve hoped for.
ZELDA FITZGERALDBeing in love, she concluded, is simply a presentation of our pasts to another individual, mostly packages so unwieldy that we can no longer manage the loosened strings alone.
ZELDA FITZGERALDFather said conflict develops the character
ZELDA FITZGERALDNobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.
ZELDA FITZGERALDA vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it.
ZELDA FITZGERALDDeath is the only real elegance.
ZELDA FITZGERALD