Scott and Zelda posing for Hearst’s International Magazine, May 1923. Zelda called it her “Elizabeth Arden face” and pasted it in her scrapbook.

Nobody knew whose party it was. It had been going on for weeks. When you felt you couldn’t survive another night, you went home and slept and when you got back, a new set of people had consecrated themselves to keeping it alive. Zelda Fitzgerald, Save Me The Waltz

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “Dyed Siberian Horse” (And Twelve Other Descriptions of Things and Atmosphere) by Biblioklept

143. Days of this February were white and magical, the nights were starry and crystalline. The town lay under a cold glory.

144. Dyed Siberian horse.

145. As thin as a repeated dream.

146. The sea was coming up in little intimidating rushes.

147. The island floated, a boat becalmed, upon the almost perceptible curve of the world.

148. Lost in the immensity of surfaceless blue sky like air piled on air.

151. On the great swell of the Blue Danube, the summer ball rocked into motion.

152. A circus ring for ponies in country houses.

153. The tense, sunny room seemed romantic to Becky, with its odor of esoteric gases, the faint perfumes of future knowledge, the low electric sizz in the glass cells.

154. A rambling frame structure that had been a residence in the 80’s, the country poorhouse in the 1900’s, and now was a residence again.

155. The groans of moribund plumbing.

156. The silvery “Hey!” of a telephone.

161. Whining, tinkling hoochie-coochie show.

From the angels wanna wear my red shoes and Scott & Zelda Fitzgerald

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