This annoyed me.

“This is the queen,” he said.

This idea is that we’re Nordics.

He used this instead of a ticket.

This fellow has worked out the whole thing.

“This lady is going to have a baby, Nick,” he said.

Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?

Of course, the great thing in this sort of an affair is not to be shot oneself.

I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit.

My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations.

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

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

This increased Cohn’s distaste for boxing, but it gave him a certain satisfaction of some strange sort, and it certainly improved his nose.

At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started⁠—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room.

“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.”

I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him⁠—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office.

Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction⁠—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn.

I lived at West Egg, the⁠—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them.

The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men.

This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it⁠—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.

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.