F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Notebooks
- Days of this February were white and magical, the nights were starry and crystalline.
- The town lay under a cold glory.
- Dyed Siberian horse. As thin as a repeated dream.
- The sea was coming up in little intimidating rushes.
- The island floated, a boat becalmed, upon the almost perceptible curve of the world.
- Lost in the immensity of surfaceless blue sky like air piled on air.
- On the great swell of the Blue Danube, the summer ball rocked into motion.
- A circus ring for ponies in country houses.
- The tense, sunny room seemed romantic to Becky, with its odor of esoteric gases, the faint perfumes of future knowledge, the low electric sizz in the glass cells.
- A rambling frame structure that had been a residence in the 80’s, the country poorhouse in the 1900’s, and now was a residence again.
- The groans of moribund plumbing.
- The silvery “Hey!” of a telephone.
- Whining, tinkling hoochie-coochie show.