Do you see?

“You are!”

What you doing, Nick?

You must know Gatsby.

You have everything here.

Haven’t you ever seen her?

Well, you ought to see her.

“Oh, how do you do,” she said.

“You will,” I answered shortly.

You will if you stay in the East.

“You don’t know,” said his father.

“What do you want?” asked the voice.

I am, and you are, and you are, and⁠—

You and me we’ve made a separate peace.

“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly.

Can’t you talk about crops or something?

How you ever get anything done is beyond me.

Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?

I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it.

“You go down after him,” said Maera, “he hates me.”

“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously.

“Hell, Jimmy,” he said, “you oughtn’t to have done it.”

Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”

“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.

“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically.

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

Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?

“Oh, Daddy, can’t you give her something to make her stop screaming?” asked Nick.

Too heavy to lift and you could shoot through it and they would have to climb over it.

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

From Smith’s back door you could look out across the woods that ran down to the lake and across the bay.

“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret.

“You ought to live in California⁠—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.

The lieutenant kept riding his horse out into the fields and saying to him, “I’m drunk, I tell you, mon vieux.”

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

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.”

“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more.

“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.”

“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.”

The kid came out and had to kill five bulls because you can’t have more than three matadors, and the last bull he was so tired he couldn’t hardly get the sword in.

Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body⁠—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat.

If it happened right down close in front of you, you could see Villalta snarl at the bull and curse him, and when the bull charged he swung back firmly like an oak when the wind hits it, his legs tight together, the muleta trailing and the sword following the curve behind.