His smile was one of those rare smiles that you may come across four or five times in life. It seemed to understand you and believe in you, just like you would like to be understood and believed in.
Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Jay, you can't repeat the past.
If I could just get back to the start, I could find it again. Some vision of himself that he'd put into loving Daisy.
I knew that when I kissed this girl I would be forever wed to her. So I stopped. I stopped, and I... I waited. I waited for a moment longer. He knew his mind would never again be free to romp like the mind of God. That falling in love would change his destiny... forever.
She has to go to Tom... and tell him that she never loved him.
There had been music from my neighbor's all summer. In his blue gardens, men and girls came and went like moths, among the whispering and the laughter and the stars.
Tom was feeling the hot whips of panic. His mistress and wife, an hour ago so secure, were both slipping from his control.
Gatsby: The only respectable thing about you, old sport, is your money. You money, that's it. I have just as much as you, that means we're equal. Tom: Oh, no! No. We are different. I am, they are, she is. We're all different from you. You see, we were born different. It's in our blood. And ain't nothing that you can do, say or steal, or dream up, will change that.
He began talking excitedly. But with every word, Daisy withdrawing further and further to herself.
Thirty. The promise of a decade of loneliness. The formidable stroke of thirty died away. As Gatsby and Daisy drove on through the cooling twilight... towards death.
Jay? They are a rotten crowd. You are worth the whole damn bunch put together. I was always glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever paid him.
After Gatsby's death, New York was haunted for me. That city...my once golden shimmering mirage...now made me sick.
The moon rose higher. And as I stood there, brooding on an old unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked up Daisy's green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come such a long way, and his dream must have seen so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it... but he did not know that was already behind him. Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic 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...So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.