The History of Literature cover image

167 F Scott Fitzgerald

The History of Literature

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'Tis the Season,' He Said.

His wife escaped to a grave in vermont. So much for the effort and ingenuity of montmartre. All the catering to vice and waste was on an utterly childish scale. He remembered thousand franc notes being given to an orchestra for playing a single number. But it hadn't been given for nothing. It had been given, even the most wildly squandered sum as an offering to destiny. That he might not remember the things most worth remembering,. The things that now he would always remember. His child taken from his control.

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