THIS IS MY SCRAPBOOK
MY PINTEREST

söndag, juni 17

Ur The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald:

"Look at that", she whispered, and then after a moment: "I'd like to get one
of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around"

-

"Do they miss me?" she cried ecstatically. "The whole town is desolate.
All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath,
and there's a persistent wail all night along the north shore"

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