F. Scott Fitzgerald. Yet another Libran who had trouble with his finances. After Nietzsche, Oscar Wilde, I am hunting for Libran authors who were neither associated with insanity nor had had pecuniary troubles. Short and sweet.
Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;
If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,
Till she cry ‘Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,
I must have you!’ - Summarized it all.
After reading wiki about Fitzgerald, it was only Leonardo de Caprio playing Gatsby in my mind.
I learnt about mojito, mint julep, musical instruments, postern, pompadour, flowers like jonquils, hawthorns, Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate, dog breeds like Airedale and therefore puli.
Few lines that I liked, few lines that amused me, few lines that touched something somewhere…
‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’
‘Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently’ and ‘intimate revelation ‘ reminded me of my situation. With rahu in cancer, many a times, I feel like a sink, when people, grandmas and grandpas, even 2 psychologists, 2 non practising advocates, pour out; and I listen; trying hard not to let that tear drop trickle down my cheeks. And the moment, it is a cancerian girl, I feel like running away, but I sit and smile my silly smile.
… ‘a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.’…
‘I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.’
…. I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War.’
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler.
just as things grow in fast movies—I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house.
Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.
Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
It’s up to us who are the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things.’ made me curious about ‘The Rise of the Coloured Empires’ by this man Goddard
‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
‘Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!’
... as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me
You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumors and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumored into marriage.
About Tom’s mistress….The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known.
The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do.
….but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can…
Taking out my handkerchief I wiped from his cheek the remains of the spot of dried lather that had worried me all the afternoon…
…..whole pitful of oboes and trombones and saxophones and viols and cornets and piccolos and low and high drums.
…..introductions forgotten on the spot…
About Gatsby’s smile….It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
‘And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’
...... Most of the remaining women were now having fights with men said to be their husbands.
But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home.
Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.
The smile comprehended Montenegro’s troubled history and sympathized with the brave struggles of the Montenegrin people.
I saw him opening a chest of rubies to ease, with their crimson-lighted depths, the gnawings of his broken heart.
If I were to collect any precious stone, it would be a golden yellow sapphire, kanagapushparagam.
Decades ago, I liked diamonds, but venus’ excess scares me, its jupiter’s wisdom that I need.
cuff buttons… composed of oddly familiar pieces of ivory. ‘Finest specimens of human molars… made me squirm.
He had waited five years and bought a mansion where he dispensed star-light to casual moths so that he could ‘come over’ some afternoon to a stranger’s garden.
There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.’
Once more it was pouring and my irregular lawn, well-shaved by Gatsby’s gardener, abounded in small muddy swamps and prehistoric marshes. There was nothing to look at from under the tree except Gatsby’s enormous house, so I stared at it, like Kant at his church steeple, for half an hour.
……a dishevelled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor…wonder what those exercises were…
I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
ONE THING’S SURE AND NOTHING’S SURER
THE RICH GET RICHER AND THE POOR GET—CHILDREN.
IN THE MEANTIME,
No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
All the while, I have just heard of woman’s heart being as deep as the ocean.
The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen-year-old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful to the end.
Human sympathy has its limits and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.
I disliked him so much by this time that I didn’t find it necessary to tell him he was wrong.
They had never been closer in their month of love nor communicated more profoundly one with another than when she brushed silent lips against his coat’s shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.
his eyes leaking isolated and unpunctual tears. He had reached an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise, ....
....So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past...
You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver
They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then re-treated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made….
I shook hands with him; it seemed silly not to, for I felt suddenly as though I were talking to a child.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past
.........................
I read the ebook leisurely, dragging over 2 days and it was sheer coincidence, when my kutti friend listened to this book in 2+ hours today. I never cease to be amazed by his memory, to recite the lines flawlessly after listening just once. He is perfect with pronunciations, seeing this world with only 20% vision.
Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;
If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,
Till she cry ‘Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,
I must have you!’ - Summarized it all.
After reading wiki about Fitzgerald, it was only Leonardo de Caprio playing Gatsby in my mind.
I learnt about mojito, mint julep, musical instruments, postern, pompadour, flowers like jonquils, hawthorns, Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate, dog breeds like Airedale and therefore puli.
Few lines that I liked, few lines that amused me, few lines that touched something somewhere…
‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’
‘Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently’ and ‘intimate revelation ‘ reminded me of my situation. With rahu in cancer, many a times, I feel like a sink, when people, grandmas and grandpas, even 2 psychologists, 2 non practising advocates, pour out; and I listen; trying hard not to let that tear drop trickle down my cheeks. And the moment, it is a cancerian girl, I feel like running away, but I sit and smile my silly smile.
… ‘a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.’…
‘I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.’
…. I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War.’
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler.
just as things grow in fast movies—I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house.
Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.
Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
It’s up to us who are the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things.’ made me curious about ‘The Rise of the Coloured Empires’ by this man Goddard
‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
‘Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!’
... as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me
You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumors and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumored into marriage.
About Tom’s mistress….The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known.
The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do.
….but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can…
Taking out my handkerchief I wiped from his cheek the remains of the spot of dried lather that had worried me all the afternoon…
…..whole pitful of oboes and trombones and saxophones and viols and cornets and piccolos and low and high drums.
…..introductions forgotten on the spot…
About Gatsby’s smile….It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
‘And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’
...... Most of the remaining women were now having fights with men said to be their husbands.
But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home.
Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.
The smile comprehended Montenegro’s troubled history and sympathized with the brave struggles of the Montenegrin people.
I saw him opening a chest of rubies to ease, with their crimson-lighted depths, the gnawings of his broken heart.
If I were to collect any precious stone, it would be a golden yellow sapphire, kanagapushparagam.
Decades ago, I liked diamonds, but venus’ excess scares me, its jupiter’s wisdom that I need.
cuff buttons… composed of oddly familiar pieces of ivory. ‘Finest specimens of human molars… made me squirm.
He had waited five years and bought a mansion where he dispensed star-light to casual moths so that he could ‘come over’ some afternoon to a stranger’s garden.
There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.’
Once more it was pouring and my irregular lawn, well-shaved by Gatsby’s gardener, abounded in small muddy swamps and prehistoric marshes. There was nothing to look at from under the tree except Gatsby’s enormous house, so I stared at it, like Kant at his church steeple, for half an hour.
……a dishevelled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor…wonder what those exercises were…
I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
ONE THING’S SURE AND NOTHING’S SURER
THE RICH GET RICHER AND THE POOR GET—CHILDREN.
IN THE MEANTIME,
No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
All the while, I have just heard of woman’s heart being as deep as the ocean.
The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen-year-old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful to the end.
Human sympathy has its limits and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.
I disliked him so much by this time that I didn’t find it necessary to tell him he was wrong.
They had never been closer in their month of love nor communicated more profoundly one with another than when she brushed silent lips against his coat’s shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.
his eyes leaking isolated and unpunctual tears. He had reached an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise, ....
....So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past...
You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver
They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then re-treated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made….
I shook hands with him; it seemed silly not to, for I felt suddenly as though I were talking to a child.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past
.........................
I read the ebook leisurely, dragging over 2 days and it was sheer coincidence, when my kutti friend listened to this book in 2+ hours today. I never cease to be amazed by his memory, to recite the lines flawlessly after listening just once. He is perfect with pronunciations, seeing this world with only 20% vision.
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