Stocks reached record peaks and Wall Street boomed in a steady golden roar. The parties were bigger. The shows were broader. The buildings were higher. The morals were looser and the ban on alchohol had backfired making the liquor cheaper. Wall Street was luring the young and ambitious.
All the bright, precious things fade so fast. And they don't come back.
He knew his mind would never again be free to romp like the mind of God.
After Gatsby's death New York was haunted for me. That city my once golden shimmering mirage now made me sick. On my last night in New York I returned to that huge incoherent house once more. Wolfshinem's associates had cleaned it out.
The moon rose higher. And as I stood there, brooding on the old, unkonwn world I thought of Gatsby's wonder when the first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come such a long way. And his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. But he did not know that it 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.