Page 188 - TRINITY 2004
P. 188

I  wanted  no  more  riotous  excursions  with  privileged
                                                                                                  glimpses  into  the  human  heart.  O n ly  G atsby  was
                                                                                                  exempt  from  my  reaction  -  Gatsby,  who  represented
                                                                                                  everything  for  which  I  have  an  unaffected  scorn.  If
                                                                                                  personality  is an unbroken series of successful gestures,
                                                                                                  then  there  was  something  gorgeous  about  him,  some
                                                                                                  height ened  sensitivitity  to  the  promises of life,  as  if he
                                                                                                  were  related  to  one  of  those  intricate  machines  that
                                                                                                  register  earthquakes  ten  thousand  miles  away.  This
                                                                                                  responsiveness  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  flabby
                                                                                                  impressionability  which  is dignified under the name of
                                                                                                  the  “ creative  temperament”  -  it  was  an  extraordinary
                                                                                                  gift  for hope, a  romantic readiness such as  I  have never
                                                                                                  found  in  any  other  person  and  which  it  is  not  likely  I
                                                                                                  shall  ever  find  again.  No  -  Gatsby  turned  out  all  right
                                                                                                  at  the  end;  it  is  what  preyed  on  Gatsby,  what  foul dust
                                                                                                  floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed
                                                                                                  out  my  interest  in  the  abortive  sorrows  and  short-
                                                                                                  winded elations of men.
                                                                                                              -  F.  Scott  Fitzgerald,  The  Great  Gatsby











                                                                                                        Look, it’s m y m isery that I have to paint this
                                                                                                       kind  of  painting,  it’s  your  misery  that  you
                                                                                                       have  to  love  it,  and  the  price  of  misery  is
                                                                                                        thirteen hundred and fifty dollars.
                                                                                                                                -M ark  Rothko







                                                                                       EIGHTH ANNUAL
                                                                                  R A C E   T O   D E L IV E R
                                                                                  4422





                                                                                   T o   R o n o fit   GOD'S iO V f
                                                                                    10 uenem      We DELIVER
                                     I give her all my love, that’s all I do.
                                                       - Paul McCartney

                                                 To  Mr.  Moreau:
                                                 “A ll right, let’s not panic. I’l
                                                 make  the  money by sellin;
                                                 one  o f m y  livers.  I  can  ge
                                                 by with one.”
                                                         - Hom er Simpsor







                                        CINDY


                                      DANITA


                                           TAN





                            Where fear is present, wisdom cannot be.
                                                              -  Lactantius




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