Everything. And there was nothing I could say...except the one unutterable fact that none of it was true.
— Well, it didn't bring anyone else much solace. I wasn't any good.
— No one need ever read it. You could always burn it.
— No one's met him. They say he's third cousin to the Kaiser and second cousin to the devil.
— I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host. You see... I'm Gatsby.
He threw all those parties hoping she'd wander in one night.
A caravanserai...of billionaire playboy publishers and their blond nurses. Heiresses comparing inheritances on Gatsby's beach. My boss, Walter Chase, losing money at the roulette tables. Gossip columnists alongside... gangsters and governors exchanging telephone numbers. Film stars... Broadway directors... morality protectors...high school defectors.
— If it wasn't for the mist, we could see the green light.
— What green light?
— The one that burns all night at the end of your dock.
Possibly...it had occurred to Gatsby that the colossal significance of that light had vanished forever.
You must understand that I like all things that are modern. Presses the orange... it all comes out there.
Alone and embarrassed... I decided to get roaring...drunk.
I'll make you a drink, Tom. Then you won't seem so stupid to yourself.
Life is something you dominate.
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