📔 The Great Gatsby

His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed.

On Sunday morning while church bells rang in the villages alongshore, the word and its mistress returned to Gatsby's house and twinkled hilariously on his lawn.

[…] the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

The straw seats of the car hovered on the edge of combustion; the woman next to me perspired delicately for a while into her white shirtwaist […].

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning—

"Anyhow, he gives large parties," said Jordan, changing the subject with an urban distaste for the concrete. "And I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy."

At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam.

I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.