He must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about…like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via liquidnight)
  1. asweetunrest reblogged this from liquidnight
  2. melodyinn reblogged this from liquidnight
  3. cynthiacynthiacynthia reblogged this from liquidnight
  4. awdreyfleckd reblogged this from arsvitaest
  5. wordslikevines reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
  6. stumblemouth reblogged this from liquidnight
  7. -spittingvenom reblogged this from arsvitaest
  8. wanderingnotlostheart reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
  9. willowcabins reblogged this from anneboleynfanclub
  10. realmsofeternalbliss reblogged this from slychedelic
  11. human-voices reblogged this from liquidnight
  12. mothersuperiiior reblogged this from liquidnight
  13. dinoworshipper reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
  14. treenuhclow reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
  15. ifaslila reblogged this from liquidnight