Her voice is full of money...
"There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams; not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion."
" 'They're a rotten crowd,' I shouted across the lawn. 'You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.' "
"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy. They smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made..."
"And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsbys wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisys dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but thats no matterto-morrow 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."
Hail, hail, you blessed fool. May we all find that green light.
" 'They're a rotten crowd,' I shouted across the lawn. 'You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.' "
"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy. They smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made..."
"And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsbys wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisys dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but thats no matterto-morrow 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."
Hail, hail, you blessed fool. May we all find that green light.