If you’re looking for F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes about love, you’ve come to the right place. Here at Inspiring Lizard we collect thought-provoking quotes from interesting people. And in this article we share a list of the 51 most interesting quotes about love by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Let’s get inspired!
F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes about love
I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I’m not sentimental–I’m as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last–the romanticperson has a desperate confidence that they won’t.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
Actually that’s my secret — I can’t even talk about you to anybody because I don’t want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
Ah, ” she cried, “you look so cool.” Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table.You always look so cool, ” she repeated.She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda: The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald
Think how you love me, ” she whispered. “I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am to-night.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
You know I’m old in some ways-in others-well, I’m just a little girl. I like sunshine and pretty things and cheerfulness-and I dread responsibility.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as though a series of pure accidents had driven them together, so many accidents that at last they were forced to conclude that they were for each other. They had arrived with clean hands, or so it seemed, after no traffic with the merely curious and clandestine.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
You’ve got an awfully kissable mouth.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
I hope I haven’t given you the impression that I consider kissing intrinsically irrational.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
It’s all life is. Just going ’round kissing people.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
A phrase began to beat in my ears with a sort of heady excitement: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I had traded the fight against love for the fight against loneliness, the fight against life for the fight against death.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
My God, ‘ he gasped, ‘you’re fun to kiss.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
Amory, sorry for them, was still not sorry for himself – art, politics, religion, whatever his medium should be, he knew he was safe now, free from all hysteria – he could accept what was acceptable, roam, grow, rebel, sleep deep through many nights…There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth – yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams…And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed…He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.”I know myself, ” he cried, “but that is all.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I don’t think he was ever happy unless someone was in love with him, responding to him like filings to a magnet, helping him to explain himself, promising him something. What it was I do not know. Perhaps they promised that there would always be women in the world who would spend their brightest, freshest, rarest hours to nurse and protect that superiority he cherished in his heart.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories
He was in love with every pretty woman he saw now, their forms at a distance, their shadows on the walls.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
He watched her for several minutes. Something was stirred in him, something not accounted for by the warm smell of the afternoon or the triumphant vividness of red. He felt persistently that the girl was beautiful — then of a sudden he understood: it was her distance, not a rare and precious distance of soul but still distance, if only in terrestrial yards. The autumn air was between them, and the roofs and the blurred voices. Yet for a not altogether explained second, posing perversely in time, his emotion had been nearer to adoration than in the deepest kiss he had ever known.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
I’ll drink your champagne. I’ll drink every drop of it, I don’t care if it kills me.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
I want you to lie to me just as sweetly as you know how for the rest of my life.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Men don’t often know those times when a girl could be had for nothing.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Last Tycoon
But magic must hurry on, and the lovers remain…
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
no girl can permanently bolster up a lame-duck visitor, because these day it’s every girl for herself.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated a surrender with equanimity. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him – like an actor kissed in a picture.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
I wish I had done everything on earth with you
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
If I hurt your feelings we ought to discuss it. I don’t like this kiss-and-forget.”But I don’t want to argue. I think it’s wonderful that we can kiss and forget, and when we can’t it’ll be time to argue.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
Go on, she urged. Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
You’re three or four different men but each of them out in the open. Like all Americans.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
They were stars on this stage, each playing to an audience of two.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance – that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it – then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
This is all. It’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful. But this wouldn’t do – and wouldn’t last.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
Never miss a party…good for the nerves–like celery.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Her fine high forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet and shining, the colour of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood — she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
He was good looking, “sort of distinguished when he wants to be”, had a line, and was properly inconstant. In fact, he summed up all the romance that her age and environment led her to desire
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
Yet Anthony knew that there were days when they hurt each other purposely—taking almost a delight in the thrust. Incessantly she puzzled him: one hour so intimate and charming, striving desperately toward an unguessed, transcendent union; the next, silent and cold, apparently unmoved by any consideration of their love or anything he could say. Often he would eventually trace these portentous reticences to some physical discomfort—of these she never complained until they were over—or to some carelessness or presumption in him, or to an unsatisfactory dish at dinner, but even then the means by which she created the infinite distances she spread about herself were a mystery, buried somewhere back in those twenty-two years of unwavering pride.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
My courage is faith–faith in the eternal resilience of me–that joy’ll come back, and hope and spontaneity. And I feel that till it does I’ve got to keep my lips shut and my chin high and my eyes wide–not necessarily any silly smiling. Oh, I’ve been through hell without a whine quite often–and the female hell is deadlier than the male.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Their lips brushed like young wild flowers in the wind.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
All I think of ever is that I love you.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
Take off that darn fur coat!…Or maybe you’d like to have us open all the windows.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Yet how bored they both looked, and how wearily Ethel regarded Jim sometimes, as if she wondered why she had trained the vines of her affection on such a wind-shaken poplar.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bernice Bobs Her Hair
Many times he had tried unsuccessfully to let go his hold on her. They had many fine times together, fine talks between the loves of the white nights, but always when he turned away from her into himself he left her holding Nothing in her hands and staring at it, calling it many names, but knowing it was only the hope that he would come back soon.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Believe me, I may be a bit blasé, but I can still get any man I want.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls
Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water, Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light, Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter…Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night.Walking alone…was it splendor, or what, we were bound with?Deep in the time when summer lets down her hair?Shadows we loved and the patterns they covered the ground withTapestries, mystical, faint in the breathless air.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
I don’t ask you to love me always like this but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
Unlike Gatsby and Tom Buchanan I had no girl whose disembodied face floated along the dark cornices and blinding signs and so I drew up the girl beside me, tightening my arms. Her wan scornful mouth smiled and I drew her up again, closer, this time to my face.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
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