Her body calculated to a millimeter to suggest a bud yet guarantee a flower.
Interpretation
This quote highlights the delicate balance of beauty and potential in a person.
F. Scott Fitzgerald's quote metaphorically describes a woman whose physical appearance exudes both innocence and promise. The comparison to a bud that can bloom into a flower suggests that her allure is not just in her current state, but also in the potential for deeper beauty and emotional depth, inviting admiration and intrigue from those around her.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of inner beauty, this quote can illustrate how physical appearance is intertwined with potential.
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.
life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream
Love and work are to people what water and sunshine are to plants.
I have now understood that though it seems to men that they live by care for themselves, in truth it is love alone by which they live. He who has love, is in God, and God is in him, for God is love.
The battle for our hearts is fought on the pages of our calendar.
No,' he said, 'memory's a poor thing to have. It's your own real hair and mouth and arms and eyes and hands I want. I didn't know I could ever love anything so much.
The moon is setand the Pleiades; Middle ofthe night, time passes by,I lie alone.
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