Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.
Interpretation
The quote describes the profound beauty and vitality of a woman, conveying that her essence is beyond mere words.
In this quote, F. Scott Fitzgerald reflects on the essence of a woman's beauty, which transcends physical appearance and resonates in her vibrancy and spirit. The speaker struggles to articulate her qualities, illustrating that true beauty embodies a sense of liveliness that impacts those around her, leaving a lasting impression that words alone cannot capture.
In practice
In a speech about inspiring individuals, one might refer to this quote when discussing the impact of personality on beauty.
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.
Love is a lot like a backache. It doesn't show up on x-rays, but you know it's there.
A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld,β The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies,β Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies.
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.
Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names. It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.
Bitterness imprisons life; love releases it. Bitterness paralyzes life; love empowers it. Bitterness sours life; love sweetens it. Bitterness sickens life; love heals it. Bitterness blinds life; love anoints its eyes.
For Chelsea, I would turn down every job in the world.
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