His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, w… - F. Scott Fitzgerald

that voice was a deathless song.

I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be over-dreamed — that voice was a deathless song.

Happiness is only the first hour after the alleviation of some especially intense misery.

You've got to sell your heart, your strongest reactions, not the little minor things that only touch you lightly, the little experiences that you might tell at dinner. This is especially true when you begin to write, when you have not yet developed the tricks of interesting people on paper, when you have none of the technique which it takes time to learn. When, in short, you have only your emotions to sell.

Open the whisky, Tom,' she ordered, 'and I'll make you a mint julep. Then you won't seem so stupid to yourself... Look at the mint!