F. Scott Fitzgerald
654 citations

When Vanity kissed Vanity, a hundred happy Junes ago, he pondered o'er her breathlessly, and, that all men might ever know, he rhymed her eyes with life and death: Thru Time I'll save my love! he said. . . yet Beauty vanished with his breath, and, with her lovers, she was dead. . . -Ever his wit and not her eyes, ever his art and not her hair: Who'd learn a trick in rhyme, be wise and pause before his sonnet there. . . So all my words, however true, might sing you to a thousandth June, and no one ever know that you were Beauty for an afternoon. ✨ F. Scott Fitzgerald (2016). This Side of Paradise, p.184, Xist Publishing

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DeathLifeLove

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