After Gatsbys death the East was haunted for me like that, distorted beyond my eyes power of correction.
After Gatsbys death the East was haunted for me like that, distorted beyond my eyes power of correction.
I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited - they went there.
I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors eyes a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsbys house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories