one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty−one that everything afterward savors of anti−climax. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

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one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty−one that everything afterward savors of anti−climax.

English
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About F. Scott Fitzgerald

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (24 September 1896 – 21 December 1940) was an Irish-American novelist and short story writer.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald
Alternative Names: Francis Scott Fitzgerald Scott Fitzgerald
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Additional quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald

All good writing is like swimming underwater and holding your breath.

"My story starts at sea, a perilous voyage to an unknown land. A shipwreck. The wild waters roar and heave. The brave vessel is dashed all to pieces. And all the helpless souls within her drowned. All save one. A lady. Whose soul is greater than the ocean, and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace. Not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story. For she will be my heroine for all time. And her name will be Viola."

"She was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one - the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul. She was that unity sought for by philosophers through many centuries. In this outdoor waiting room of winds and stars she had been sitting for a hundred years, at peace in the contemplation of herself."

"He knew that there was passion there, but there was no shadow of it in her eyes or on her mouth; there was a faint spray of champagne on her breath. She clung nearer desperately and once more he kissed her and was chilled by the innocence of her kiss, by the glance that at the moment of contact looked beyond him out into the darkness of the night, the darkness of the world."

"Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him."

"I used to build dreams about you."

"Then she kissed him until the sky seemed to fade out and all her smiles and tears to vanish in an ecstasy of eternal seconds."

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My whole theory of writing I can sum up in one sentence. An author ought to write for the youth of his own generation, the critics of the next, and the schoolmasters of ever afterward.

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