All the old women in the camp had been helping her.

When he started to kill it was all in the same rush.

All the time now Liz was thinking about Jim Gilmore.

It was cold but Liz was hot all over from being with Jim.

There were only a few patients, and they all knew about it.

It would have been all right with Mrs. Smith but Liz was afraid.

“Well, after all,” I said, “he’s just an ignorant Mexican savage.”

Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.

“Here’s all the ones we missed A. J.,” said Jim and downed his liquor.

All the time Jim was gone on the deer hunting trip Liz thought about him.

Once the horn went all the way through him and he felt it go into the sand.

“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently.

He turned him up, all his legs walking in the air, and looked at his jointed belly.

The young Indian stopped and blew out his lantern and they all walked on along the road.

“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”

—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization⁠—oh, science and art, and all that.

This isn’t just an epigram⁠—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

She couldn’t wait till she saw Jim and it seemed as though everything would be all right when he came.

Fifteen came in a bunch to the front and he sorted them by the dates and read them all straight through.

He was very short with a brown face and quite drunk and he said, “After all, it has happened before like that.”

“That’s all right maybe this time,” said Drevitts, “but how did you know they were wops when you bumped them off?”

After all, in the very casualness of Gatsby’s party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from her world.

The Indian who was rowing them was working very hard, but the other boat moved further ahead in the mist all the time.

They moved with a fast crowd, all of them young and rich and wild, but she came out with an absolutely perfect reputation.

I heard the drums coming down the street and then the fifes and the pipes and then they came around the corner, all dancing.

And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all.

For the second time that evening Anthony’s mind made an abrupt jump, and what he said was not at all what he had intended to say.

We went along the road all night in the dark and the adjutant kept riding up alongside my kitchen and saying, “You must put it out.”

All the men had beards and there were three deer in the back of the wagon, their thin legs sticking stiff over the edge of the wagon box.

All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.

“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why⁠—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces.

Reading over what I have written so far, I see I have given the impression that the events of three nights several weeks apart were all that absorbed me.

Spider Kelly taught all his young gentlemen to box like featherweights, no matter whether they weighed one hundred and five or two hundred and five pounds.

The crowd shouted all the time, and threw pieces of bread down into the bull ring, then cushions and leather wine bottles, keeping up whistling and yelling.

Nick struck and the rod came alive and dangerous, bent double, the line tightening, coming out of water, tightening, all in a heavy, dangerous, steady pull.

They were all about the hospital, and how much she loved him and how it was impossible to get along without him and how terrible it was missing him at night.

In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores.

When they stopped the music for the crouch he hunched down in the street with them all and when they started it again he jumped up and went dancing down the street with them.

When she looked at them they didn’t seem to be moving at all but if she went in and dried some more dishes and then came out again they would be out of sight beyond the point.

Elliot had a number of friends by now, all of whom admired his poetry, and Mrs. Elliot had prevailed on him to send over to Boston for her girl friend who had been in the tea shop.

The night before they were to come back she didn’t sleep at all, that is she didn’t think she slept because it was all mixed up in a dream about not sleeping and really not sleeping.

Imagine having them around the house all the time and going to Sunday dinners at their house, and having them over to dinner and her telling Marge all the time what to do and how to act.

There was the sun, letting down great glowing masses of heat; there was life, active and snarling, moving about them like a fly swarm⁠—the dark pants of smoke from the engine, a crisp “all aboard!” and a bell ringing.

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.

Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire.

My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires⁠—all for eighty dollars a month.

She had seemed much younger, in fact, she had seemed not to have any age at all, when Elliot had married her after several weeks of making love to her, after knowing her for a long time in her tea shop before he had kissed her one evening.

So they all sat around the Café du Dome, avoiding the Rotonde across the street because it is always so full of foreigners, for a few days, and then the Elliots rented a château in Touraine, through an advertisement in the New York Herald.

Gosh, I was so excited, I was afraid to look at them, but I fixed the glasses on the place where they would come out back of the trees and then out they came with the old black jacket going third and they all sailing over the jump like birds.