"I wouldn't ask too much of her," I ventured. "You can't repeat the past." "Can't repeat the past? he cried incredulously. "Why of course you can! - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Thirty — the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthusiasm, thinning hair.

I have an idea that Gatsby himself didn't believe it would come, and perhaps he no longer cared. If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream, He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is...

We all must try to be good.