Her beauty climbed the rolling slope, it came into the room, rustling ghost-like through the curtains.
Interpretation
The quote evokes the ethereal and captivating presence of beauty in an environment.
F. Scott Fitzgerald paints a vivid image of beauty as a dynamic and almost supernatural force that enhances a space. This quote illustrates how beauty can transform a mundane setting, creating an atmosphere charged with emotion and allure, resonating with the idea that beauty is both enchanting and fleeting.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about the impact of art in our lives.
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.
Whether I'm painting or not, I have this overweening interest in humanity. Even if I'm not working, I'm still analyzing people.
Meeting authors is kind of the death of the characters. That is always heartbreaking.
I love amazing people. I love dazzling them. That's why I think performing magic is one of the greatest things a person can do.
The aim of poetry and the poet is finally to be of service, to ply the effort of the individual into the larger work of the community as a whole.
But most commonly, it's one poem that I work on with a lot of intensity.
Burn, burn tree and fern! Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch To light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Bake and toast βem, fry and roast βem! till beards blaze, and eyes glaze; till hair smells and skins crack, fat melts, and bones black in cinders lie beneath the sky! So dwarves shall die, and light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Ya-harri-hey! Ya hoy!
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