"What was it? Why won't you tell me?" "I don't want to break down your illusions." "My dear man, I have no illusions about you." "I mean illusions ab… - F. Scott Fitzgerald

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 — tomorrow 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.

The fruit of youth or of the grape, the transitory magic of the brief passage from darkness to darkness - the old illusion that truth and beauty were in some way entwined.

Kiss me now, love me now.