Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.
Zelda FitzgeraldRead
“Everybody gives you belief for the asking,” she said to David, “and so few people give you anything more to believe in than your own belief—just not letting you down, that's all. It's so hard to find a person who accepts responsibilities beyond what you ask.' 'So easy to be loved - so hard to love.' David answered.
Interpretation
The quote highlights the challenge of finding genuine commitment and love in relationships, where many only offer superficial support.
In this quote, Zelda Fitzgerald explores the intricacies of relationships, emphasizing that while people may readily express belief in others, it is rare to find individuals who take on deeper emotional responsibilities and commitments. The dialogue between the characters reveals the difficulty of finding true love, where one partner's willingness to love deeply and support their partner goes beyond mere surface-level appreciation.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion about the importance of deep connections in friendships.
Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.
She refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring.
The night you gave me my birthday party... you were a young Lieutenant and I was a fragrant phantom, wasn't I? And it was a radiant night, a night of soft conspiracy and the trees agreed that it was all going to be for the best.
A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether.
There seemed to be some heavenly support beneath his shoulder blades that lifted his feet from the ground in ecstatic suspension, as if he secretly enjoyed the ability to fly but was walking as a compromise to convention.
I remember every single spot of light that ever gouged a shadow beside your bones.
There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother... Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.
Do you like me?” No answer. Silence bounced, fell off his tongue and sat between us and clogged my throat. It slaughtered my trust. It tore cigarettes out of my mouth. We exchanged blind words, and I did not cry, I did not beg, but blackness filled my ears, blackness lunged in my heart, and something that had been good, a sort of kindly oxygen, turned into a gas oven.
[For constructive conflict,] we have to resist the neurobiological drive which means that we really prefer people mostly like ourselves.
Asking women to respect themselves in order to ‘earn’ the right to be treated like a human being is total horseshit. But suggesting that you have the right to treat her exactly as you please because she didn’t adhere to your archaic views of feminine propriety is misogyny, plain and simple.
I am part of what she thinks is her illness, a symptom of which she thinks she has been cured. She, on the other hand, is what I was looking for.
A successful marriage is a decision. You decide it's going to work. You can't always be there, but you have to be there enough. And you have to make sure you are where you're needed most.
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