# data[].attributes.body
"Through  all  he  said,  even  through  his  appalling  sentimentality,   I   was reminded   of   something—an   elusive

rhythm,  a  fragment  of  lost  words,  that  I  had  heard  somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound and what I had almost

remembered was uncommunicable forever" (111).

# data[].attributes.body
“For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy’s wing.(106)”

# data[].attributes.body
A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock ticked on the washstand and the moon soaked with wet light his tangled clothes upon the floor. Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace, For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

# data[].attributes.body
I suppose he’d had the name ready for a long time, even then. His parents were shiftless and unsuccessful farm peo-ple—his  imagination  had  never  really  accepted  them  as his  parents  at  all.  The  truth  was  that  Jay  Gatsby,  of  West Egg,  Long  Island,  sprang  from  his  Platonic  conception  of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything,  means  just  that—and  he  must  be  about  His Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretri-cious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a  seventeen-year-old  boy  would  be  likely  to  invent,  and  to this conception he was faithful to the end.

# data[].attributes.body
"I suppose he’d had the name ready for a long time, even then. His parents were shiftless and unsuccessful farm people—his  imagination  had  never  really  accepted  them  as his  parents  at  all.  The  truth  was  that  Jay  Gatsby,  of  West Egg,  Long  Island,  sprang  from  his  Platonic  conception  of

himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything,  means  just  that—and  he  must  be  about  His

Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that

a  seventeen-year-old  boy  would  be  likely  to  invent,  and  to this conception he was faithful to the end" (98).

# data[].attributes.body
"He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and say: 'I never loved you.' After she had obliterated four years with that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measure to be taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back to Louisville and be married from her house--just as if it were five years ago." (109). 

# data[].attributes.body
"The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I had to follow the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear alone, before any words came through. A damp streak of hair lay like a dash of blue paint across her cheek, and her hand was wet with glistening drops as I took it to help her from the car."(pg85)

# data[].attributes.body
‘I wouldn’t ask too much of her,’ I ventured. ‘You can’t repeat the past.’
‘Can’t repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’

# data[].attributes.body
"He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and say: 'I never loved you.' After she had obliterated four years with that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measures to be taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back to Louisville and be married from her house- just as if it were five years ago." (109)

# data[].attributes.body
‘As  I  watched  him  he  adjusted  himself  a  little,  visibly.
His hand took hold of hers and as she said something low
in  his  ear  he  turned  toward  her  with  a  rush  of  emotion.  I
think that voice held him most with its fluctuating, feverish
warmth  because  it  couldn’t  be  over-dreamed—that  voice
was a deathless song.’

# data[].attributes.body
"Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For a while there reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing."

# data[].attributes.body
"‘And she doesn’t understand,’ he said. ‘She used to be able to understand. We’d sit for hours——‘He broke off and began to walk up and down a desolate path of fruit rinds and discarded favors and crushed flowers.‘I wouldn’t ask too much of her,’ I ventured. ‘You can’t repeat the past.’‘Can’t repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.‘I’m going to fix everything just the way it was before,’ he said, nodding determinedly. ‘She’ll see.’He talked a lot about the past and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. " (pg 118) PDF

# data[].attributes.body
One autumn night, five years before, they had been walking down the street when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes of the year. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder

# data[].attributes.body
He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means

anything,  means  just  that—and  he  must  be  about  His

Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that

a  seventeen-year-old  boy  would  be  likely  to  invent,  and  to

this conception he was faithful to the end." Pdf (105)

# data[].attributes.body
"He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and say: 'I never loved you.' After she had obliterated four years with that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measure to be taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back to Louisville and be married from her house--just as if it were five years ago." (109).

# data[].attributes.body
"There were the same people, or at least the same sort of people, the same profusion of champagne, the same many-colored, many-keyed commotion, but I felt an unpleasantness in the air, a pervading harshness that hadn't been there before. Or perhaps I had merely grown used to it" (103).

# data[].attributes.body
“The truth was that Jay Gatsby of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God - a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that- and he must be about his Father’s business” (98)

# data[].attributes.body
"He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and say: ‘I never loved you.’ After she had obliterated three years with that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measures to be taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back to Louisville and be married from her house—just as if it were five years ago." (118)

# data[].attributes.body
"The truth was that Jay Gatsby of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God− a phrase at which, if it means anything, means just that− and he must be about His Father's business, the service of a vast, vulgar, and meretricious beauty." (98)

# data[].attributes.body
"Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing." (99)

# data[].attributes.body
“After she had obliterated three years with that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measures to be taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back to Louisville and be married from her house—just as if it were five years ago.”(Fitzgerald 118).

# data[].attributes.body
"He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything,  means  just  that—and  he  must  be  about  His Father’s Business, the service of a vast, vulgar and meretricious beauty.(Pg 105)"