I'm a cynical idealist. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

For years afterwards when Amory thought of Eleanor he seemed still to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into the places beside his heart. The night when they rode up the slope and watched the cold moon float through the clouds, he lost a further part of him that nothing could restore; and when he lost it he lost also the power of regretting it.

I couldn't forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.

No one should live beyond 30