The faces of most American women over thirty are relief maps of petulant and bewildered unhappiness.
Interpretation
This quote suggests that many American women over thirty show signs of unhappiness and confusion about their lives.
F. Scott Fitzgerald's quote captures a poignant observation on the emotional and psychological struggles faced by many American women as they age, particularly after reaching thirty. The metaphor of 'relief maps' evokes the idea that their faces exhibit features of distress, with 'petulant and bewildered unhappiness' indicating a deep-seated frustration and confusion. This reflection aligns with societal expectations and the oftentimes unrealistic standards placed on women, suggesting that the passage of time can bring not just wisdom, but also a sense of disillusionment and unresolved discontent.
In practice
In a discussion about societal pressures on women, this quote highlights the emotional toll of expectations.
Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.' He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly.
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.
It was about then [1920] that I wrote a line which certain people will not let me forget: "She was a faded but still lovely woman of twenty-seven."
The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.
But you can love more than just one person, can't you?
A sudden gust of rain blew over them and then another - as if small liquid clouds were bouncing along the land. Lightning entered the sea far off and the air blew full of crackling thunder. The table cloths blew around the pillars. They blew and blew and blew. The flags twisted around the red chairs like live things, the banners were ragged, the corners of the table tore off through the burbling billowing ends of the cloths.
Seems to me that the institutions that function in this country are clearly racist, and that they're built upon racism.
We need a certain amount of energy to produce the sound. But then to sustain it, we have to give more energy, or otherwise, it goes and it dies in silence. And therefore, sound is absolutely, inextricably connected to time, the length of time.
The transition from cause to effect, from event to event, is often carried on by secret steps, which our foresight cannot divine, and our sagacity is unable to trace.
At the present moment, the security of coherent philosophy, which existed from Parmenides to Hegel, is lost.
I had been told I was on the road to hell, but I had no idea it was just a mile down the road with a dome on it.
Almost certainly God is not in time. His life does not consist of moments one following another...Ten-thirty-- and every other moment from the beginning of the world--is always Present for Him. If you like to put it this way, He has all eternity in which to listen to the split second of prayer put up by a pilot as his plane crashes in flames.
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