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The Wrong Side of...
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by Patti Davis (Goodreads Author)
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F. Scott Fitzgerald
“At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others - poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner - young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Elizabeth Flock
“Do you ever want to talk away from your life?... Do you ever think this life is not exactly what you had planned? Do you ever crave something, anything that could wake you up?”
Elizabeth Flock, Sleepwalking in Daylight

F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye. I like to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others—poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner—young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Rebecca Kanner
“We are strong—our enemies have kept us that way. They are the secret of our strength. We would not have to be strong if they were not always rising up from every direction,”
Rebecca Kanner, Esther: A Novel

F. Scott Fitzgerald
“This is a valley of ashes--a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of gray cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-gray men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

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