Louisa



Excerpt from "Split Screen Sadness," by John Mayer:

And I don't know where you went when you left me but It says here in the water, you must be gone by now I can tell somehow

One hand on the trigger of the telephone Wonderin when the call comes, when you say it's all right You got your heart right

Maybe I'll sleep inside my coat and Wait on your porch til you come back home, alright I can't find a fight We share the sadness Split screen sadness

Two wrongs make it all alright tonight Two wrongs make it all alright tonight Two wrongs make it all alright tonight Two wrongs make it all alright tonight

All you need is love is a lie cause We had a love but we still said goodbye Now we're tired, battered fighters And it stings when it nobody's fault Cause there's nothing to blame At the drop of your name, it's only the air you took And the breath you left

Excerpts from __The Great Gatsby__, by F. Scott Fitzgerald:

"‘Meyer Wolfsheim? No, he’s a gambler.’ Gatsby hesitated, then added coolly: ‘He’s the man who fixed the World’s Series back in 1919.’ ‘Fixed the World’s Series?’ I repeated. The idea staggered me. I remembered of course that the World’s Series had been fixed in 1919 but if I had thought of it all I would have thought of it as a thing that merely happened, the end of some inevitable chain. It never occurred to me that one man could start to play with the faith of fifty million people – with the single-mindedness of a burglar blowing a safe" (Fitzgerald, 73).

"Her voice is full of money" (Fitzgerald, 120).

"Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock....his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him" (Fitzgerald, 180).

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" (Fitzgerald, 180).

"The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens - finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run" (Fitzgerald, 6).

"'If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay,' said Gatsby, 'You always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock.' Daisy put her arm through his abruptly, but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever...Now it was again a green light on a dock" (Fitzgerald, 93).

PICTURES: "Solitary Lawn" by William H. Miller - (top right) "Untitled" by Weegie - (top left)

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