She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The past — the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. He did not remember.

If I hurt your feelings we ought to discuss it. I don't like this kiss-and-forget.'
'But I don't want to argue. I think it's wonderful that we can kiss and forget, and when we can't it'll be time to argue.

Everywhere we go and move on and change, something's lost — something's left behind. You can't ever quite repeat anything, and I've been so yours, here —