"Perhaps the world progresses not by maturing, but by being in a permanent state of adolescence, of thrilled discovery."

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Fitzgerald never got rid of anything; the ghosts of his adolescence, the failures of his youth, the doubts of his maturity plagued him to the end. He was supremely a part of the world he described, so much a part that he made himself its king and then, when he saw it begin to crumble, he crumbled with it and led it to death.

— John Aldridge