"Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one."
"He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on YOU with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey."
Gatsby and Daisy may have been in love—but really, what I saw, was that they were in love with the futures they could have together. They were in love with the idea of each other, a dream. And after all, they were pretty vivid dreamers.
Went to see The Great Gatsby movie as a Lurhmann fan. It was pretty good. One strange thing though: Having never read the book most of the first half of that movie looks for all the world like Gatsby is trying to seduce Nick Carraway in the most aggressively-passive-aggressive manner imaginable. Which I suppose he sort of was really.