Dec
14
Through all of it, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something— an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth, and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had remembered was uncommunicable forever.
—The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
Picture from In The Mood For Love
