The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.
Interpretation
The quote compares a Montana sunset to a bruise, suggesting beauty combined with a sense of danger or poison in the sky.
In this quote, F. Scott Fitzgerald uses vivid imagery to describe a Montana sunset, likening it to a giant bruise that signifies beauty marred by harm or toxicity. The metaphor suggests that while sunsets can be breathtaking, there is an underlying darkness or foreboding represented by the 'darkened arteries' and 'poisoned sky', prompting reflection on the relationship between nature's beauty and its potential for negativity.
In practice
In a nature documentary, when discussing the complexities of environmental beauty and degradation.
Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.' He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly.
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.
It was about then [1920] that I wrote a line which certain people will not let me forget: "She was a faded but still lovely woman of twenty-seven."
The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.
But you can love more than just one person, can't you?
A sudden gust of rain blew over them and then another - as if small liquid clouds were bouncing along the land. Lightning entered the sea far off and the air blew full of crackling thunder. The table cloths blew around the pillars. They blew and blew and blew. The flags twisted around the red chairs like live things, the banners were ragged, the corners of the table tore off through the burbling billowing ends of the cloths.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry
Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.
What we are doing is, rather than living on the interest of our basic biological capital, we're using up our capital, so we're dipping into our capital. We're using up what should be our children's and grandchildren's legacy.
If my grandchildren were to look at me and say, 'You were aware species were disappearing and you did nothing, you said nothing', that I think is culpable. I don't know how much more they expect me to be doing, I'd better ask them.
I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
In Holland and Belgium, and afterwards in England, my happiest moments were in the country. I've always had a passion for the outdoors, for trees, for birds and flowers.
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