More from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s magical Notebooks—
143 Days of this February were white and magical, the nights were starry and crystalline. The town lay under a cold glory.
144 Dyed Siberian horse.
145 As thin as a repeated dream.
146 The sea was coming up in little intimidating rushes.
147 The island floated, a boat becalmed, upon the almost perceptible curve of the world.
148 Lost in the immensity of surfaceless blue sky like air piled on air.
151 On the great swell of the Blue Danube, the summer ball rocked into motion.
152 A circus ring for ponies in country houses.
153 The tense, sunny room seemed romantic to Becky, with its odor of esoteric gases, the faint perfumes of future knowledge, the low electric sizz in the glass cells.
154 A rambling frame structure that had been a residence in the 80’s, the country poorhouse in the 1900’s, and now was a residence again.
155 The groans of moribund plumbing.
156 The silvery “Hey!” of a telephone.
161 Whining, tinkling hoochie-coochie show.
Biblioklept 