The Notebooks
of F. Scott Fitzgerald

(A) Anecdotes

1 Rene had never before searched for a colored man in the Negro residential quarter of an American city. As time passed, he had more and more a sense that he was pursuing a phantom; it began to shame him to ask the whereabouts of such ghostly, blatantly immaterial lodgings as the house of Aquilla’s brother.

2 But he came back because the herd (society) is all we have and we cannot stray without shortly finding that the wolves have to eat us too. He preached his special gospel to the herd. They (let us assume) liked it or half liked it. It worked.

3 Versailles fourth class (enlarge)

4 Story about Rose Marie’s husband (Geneva) and his sleeping upstairs instead of working.

5 Isn’t it too bad that the cow stepped on Eleanor’s pencil.

6 Eleanor and the shot gun.

7 B.D.’s first frightening experience.

8 Paris, Sept. 22nd, 1926.
Dear Charles:—I send you a copy of your wire as it came to me
Mrs. Hose Mattison
Happ Birdy From
Gunch and Me
These French!

9 Then there’s Emily. You know what happened to her; one night her husband came home and told her she was acting cold to him, but that he’d fix that up. So he built a bonfire under her bed, made up of shoes and things, and set fire to it. And if the leather hadn’t smelled so terrible she’d have been burned to death.

10 Mutiny in the army.

11 The drowning

12 Sgt. Este

13 The absent minded gentleman on the train started to get off at the wrong station. As he walked back to his seat he assumed a mirthless smile and said aloud as though he were talking to himself;
“I thought this was Great Neck.”
But he couldn’t smooth over his mistake—we all knew that he had made a fool of himself and looked upon him with distaste and contempt.

14 A man wrapped up some domestic rate in small blankets cut from an old carpet, lest they should spread germs. A few months after he had turned them loose he found young rats around the house with carpet patterns on their fur.
“How peculiar!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t suspect it would turn out that way when I wrapped up those rats.”
But it did.

15 Story of the ugly aunt in album
Jimmy the 95 pd. center
The girl who fell off the shelf

16 Once there was a whole lot of bird seed around the room because an author had adopted a chicken. It was impossible to explain to anyone just why he had adopted the chicken but still more impossible to know why he had bought the bird seed for the chicken. The chicken was later broiled and the bird seed thrown out, but the question of whether the man was an author or a lunatic was still unsolved in the minds of the hotel servants who had to deal with the situation. The hotel servants didn’t understand it. They didn’t understand how months later the author could write a story about it but they all bought the magazine.

17 A man in the next room started a fire. The fire burned all through the mattress. Maybe it would have been better if the fire had burned through him but it missed him by a few inches. The mattress was carried out with great ceremony.

18 …would become a literary man and wrote an imitation of Ivanhoe called Elavoe. (I guess I wasn’t alone in such phenomena for my daughter tells me about a composition of a friend at school concerning a certain Sir Tonsidor—who got his name, I gather, from some tonsilitis operation combined with some fragmentary memory of el toreadoro—I never heard any of the effusions about Sir Tonsidor but the name will stay with me forever. What did he look like? Would he break through doors with the facility of Mickey Mouse or were his tonsils always swollen?

19 Levan was a paralysis case. It was doubtful if he’d ever walk again. When he reached Lawrenceville he was placed on the team in the important position of Headguard, then considered the keystone post.
Few of these people will get to the Rose Bowl, but if they do, we’ll all be back of them. And few will be farther back than I will.

1781 Man who got radio by hooking ear phones to bed springs.

(B) Bright clippings

20 Snowladen evergreens will decorate the stairway and foyer leading to the ballroom, where a reproduction of the boat in which the Viking princes, at the invitation of the Russians, came to rule Russia in the ninth century, will be arranged against a mirrored background. Its huge golden sails will bear the imperial insignia, the double-headed eagle, and Joss Moss and his orchestra, in Russian garb will be seated in the craft.
Flags of old Russia will recall the imperial regime. The ancient Russian custom of welcoming guests will be invoked by six young Russian girls, in costume, who will serve to those arriving, at a table near the ballroom entrance, tiny squares of black bread dipped in salt and small tumblers of vodka.
Prince Alexis Obolensky will sing during the midnight supper in the oval restaurant and will present the Siberian Singers, a male ensemble on their first appearance in New York, in a selection of Russian folk songs. Several dance numbers will feature the enter­tainment.

21 “Blossom Time”—the greatest musical romance ever written. Cleveland: One of the best musical sows written in modern times.

22 “Men of Genius are great as certain ethereal Chemicals operating on the Mass of neutral intellect—but they have not any individuality, and determined Character.”——Keats.

23 Egyptian Proverb: The worst things:
To be in bed and sleep not,
To want for one who comes not,
To try to please and please not.

(C) Conversation and Things Overheard

24 “I’m having them all psychoanalyzed,” he said. “I got a guy down from Zurich, and he’s doing one a day. I never saw such a gloomy bunch of women; always bellyaching wherever I take ’em. A man I knew told me he had his wife psychoanalyzed and she was easier to be with afterward.”

25 “When I hear people bragging about their social position and who they are, and all that, I just sit back and laugh. Because I happen to be descended directly from Charlemagne. What do you think of that?” Josephine blushed for him.

26 “I like poetry and music better than anything in the world,” she said; “They’re wonderful.”
He believed her, knowing that she spoke of her liking for him.

27 “Yes, he has a position with the Dolleh Line, has a position with the Dolleh Line.”
“Sweetie, he just scratched and scratched and scratched all night. Scratched and scratched and—”

28 From the yard next door a small boy shouted mysteriously: “Who let that barrier through on me?”

29 “They claim you insulted one of the girls.”
“That’s nonsense, I only told her I’d like to bite her neck. I wish all you ladies had one neck so I could bite it all at once. I’m a glutton for ladies’ necks.”

30 Rosalind’s advice as to changing places with Zelda.

31 “Of course I’m afraid of horses. They try to bite me.”
“I’ve never met a horse—socially, that is—who didn’t try to bite me. They used to do it when I put the bridle on; then, when I gave up putting the bridle on, they began reaching their heads around trying to get at my calves.”
“When I went to Southampton, I was—thrown at him.”
“Thrown from a horse?”

32 “She’s really radiunt,” she said, “really radiunt.”

33 You meig me sick to my stomach.

34 S’Chris’ Watisis—a ship?

35 “Perfectly respectable girl but only been drinking that day. No matter how long she lives she’ll always know she’s killed somebody.”

36 “Well, isn’t it true? I told him how American education was terrible and you thought mine ought to be different.”
“Oh-h-h! And then to finish it off you slapped him?”
“Well, I thought the best thing was to be partly American and slap him.”

37 I think if one is V. W. M. you know (woman interrupts) Yes I know curious, amazing, extraordinary, what I mean I think are—I mean to say—preferred
I don’t know

38 “There’s no use looking at things, because you don’t like things,” remarked Raines, in answer to his polite interest.
“No,” said Charlie frankly, “I don’t.”
“You like only rhythms, with things marking the beats, and now your rhythm is broken.”

39 “You believe in something,” he said, after a long time.
“I don’t know yet what it is. You’re lucky to believe in something.”
“I believe in nothing.”
“Yes, you do. You believe that’s crouching in this room very near you now—something that you tried to do without and couldn’t do without. And now it’s gradually taking form again and you’re afraid.”
Charlie sprang to his feet, his mouth quivering. “No!” he cried. “I’m—I’m—”
“Sit down,” said Raines quietly. He looked at his watch.
“We have all night; it’s only eleven.”
Charlie gave a quick glance around and sat down, covering his face for a minute with his hands.

40 “What nice words,” she teased him. “If you keep on I’m going to throw myself under the wheels of the cab.”

41 “Call me Micky Mouse,” she said suddenly.
“I don’t know—it was fun when you called me Micky Mouse.”

42 “What do you think I ought to have?” Mary groaned.
“God what a mess! Did you pay that man for his hat?”

43 Mr. Melarky wants to see the villa because he’s here studying human nature.

44 Man on pier pronouncing dessert as desert.

45 I am willing to die with my boots on—I just want to be sure that they are my own boots and that they’re all the on.

46 “Showing off.”
“Well, then, so was Christ showing off.”

47 “Prowling the rattlers” = robbing freight cars

48 Beginning of a story “Incorrigible”
Father: Who do you admire?
Son: Andy Gump. Who do you think I admire— George Washington? Grow up!

49 With a piquant face and all the chic in the world. This is because I was educated in Paris and this in turn I owe to someone’s chance remark to Cousin Arietta that she had a nice big daughter who was only twenty-two or three at the time. It took three bromides to calm Cousin Arietta and I started for the Convent of the Sacree Coeur next day.

50 Somebody might have thought of bringing the jug of water ashore. If I don’t do anything it isn’t done in this house—I mean this family.

51 Kitty, if you write on that pillow with my lipstick

52 People’s homes—a lovely home

53 Have you a wadder closet?

54 “Am I right or wrong?” he asked the head waiter. The answer was obvious—he was right—gloriously and everlasttingly right. Interesting too.

55 “The French Riviera.”
“But surely not now,” objected Mrs. Woodle. “It’s—it’s closed.”
“How do you mean closed. We’re not going hunting.”

56 “I’m giving a dinner tonight, some very fine cultivated people. I want you to come. I sent a note to your cabin.”
“For God’s sake,” Lew groaned, “I don’t want to meet any people. I know some people.”

57 “Look me up in the Social Register”

58 Movie conversation about Anne of Austria

59 You hate people, don’t you?
Yes, and you do too.
I hate them like hell.
What are you going to do about it?
I don’t know. But not that anyhow. If I’m cold I’m not going to always use it to learn their secrets by finding them off guard and vulnerable. And I’m not going around saying I’m fond of people when I mean I’m so damned used to their reactions to my personal charm that I can’t do without it. Getting emptier and enptier. Love is shy. I thought from the first that no one who thought about it like you did ever had it.

60 “Or have you got an engagement with your drug-taking friend in Monte Carlo?”
He sat down and began putting on his shoes.
“I shouldn’t have told you that. I suppose you think he’ll convert me to the habit.”
“I certainly don’t think it’s a very profitable association.”
“Oh, yes it is. It’s not everybody who can get the dope habit from a prominent moving picture director. In fact, it’s begun already. At this very moment I’m full of dope. He started me on cocaine, and we’re working slowly up to heroin.”
“That isn’t really funny, Francis.”
“Excuse me. I was trying to be funny and I know you don’t like my way of being funny.”
She countered his growing bitterness by adopting a tone of calm patience.

61 In Virginia the Italian children say:
“Lincoln threw blacks out; now they’re back”
“The white people fit the Yankees”
“Yankees are white people” Statement.
“Not I ever hear tell of.” Ans.

62 I really loved him, but of course it wore out like a love affair. The fairies have spoiled all that.

63 “Just a couple of old drunks, just a couple of ol-l-ld circus clowns.”

64 SCRATCHING: “Any particular place?”
“All over.”

65 Mr. So and So went on a spree and lost his position.

66 “Some people are just naturally uxorious—I love Katherine but if she died I’d marry again in a year—and I’d say that in front of her.”
“Not I,” Cass thought. “When I married Jill I didn’t want to and I had every reason not to. But afterwards I had eight perfect years—eight perfect years with never a night of going to sleep in anger and never a morning when we didn’t think first of each other.”
He tried the usual specifics for sorrow—endless work, an expedition into drink, almost everything except women. And he said aloud a few times without striving for effect “That’s over—my heart’s in the grave.”
Now when a man of thirty-four, successful and well-liked, with no extra flesh around his middle and no pink spot in his hair lets it be known that his affections are underground there are a certain number of women who will think “Maybe” and wonder.

67 I’m in a hurry
I’m in a hurry. I’m in a hurry
What are you in a hurry about?
I can’t explain I’m in a hurry

68 This is a tough girl and I’m taking her to tough place.

69 300 a day die in auto accidents in the U. S. A.

70 Man looking at aeroplane. “That’s one of them new gyropractors.”

71 Bijou, regarding her cigarette fingers:
“Oh, Trevah! Get me the pumice stone.”

72 His life was a sort of dream, as are most lives with the mainspring left out.

73 Suddenly her face resumed that expression which can only come from studying moving picture magazines over and over, and only described as one long blond wish toward something—a wish that you’d have a wedlock with the youth of Shirley Temple, the earning power of Clark Gable; the love of Clark Gable and the talent of Charles Laughton—and with a bright smile the girl was gone.

74 Feel wide awake—no but at least I feel born, which is more than I did the first time I woke up.

75 The cartoon cat licked the cartoon kitten and a girl behind me said, “Isn’t that sweet?”

76 In utter weariness he asked her once in different words, “Then where do you go from here—where do you turn?”
“Toward life,” she said “Toward life,” and turned toward him.

77 We can’t just let our worlds crash around us like a lot of dropped trays.

78 Q: What did he die of? A: He died of jus’ sheer die-ability.

79 Mother saying she went over to Baltimore “right after the funeral.”

80 “Hello, Sam.” When you were a good guest you knew the name of the servants, the smallest babies, and the oldest aunts. “Is Bonny in?”

81 “You’re now talking to Mr. Brugerol’s second. Anything you say will be used against you. My client demands an apology.”
“My client refuses to apoligize.”
“Well, my client says unless he gets an apology and a good one, he wants to kill your client.”
“Well, he’s got to catch him first.” We all laughed noiselessly; then with sudden compunction Francis added, “Is that old bloodhound serious about this?”

82 At Laundry Convention. First he vomited on my car, then he vomited on my dogs. Then I got the hose etc. Was I right?

83 That’s Mr. Woodles—he had a vurry, vurry low cephalic index.

84 “Oh, all we sickies used to smoke in Switzerland, sort of disinfectant don’t you know.”

85 I like writers. If you speak to a writer you often get an answer.

86 Woman says about husband that he keeps bringing whole great masses of dogs back from the pound

87 “We haven’t got any more gin,” he said. “Will you have a bromide?” he added hopefully.

88 A Beach. The nurses. Passing through a phrase, “Nothink, didn’t I, Mummy?”

89 “Our typical remark is a very doubtful. Well, I don’t know” (This was one of Seth’s un-American days.) “For the British it’s ’Extraordinary’—a stupefaction toward something not understood—but it disposed of, for their ends at least.”
“For the French i ’s ’Eh, voila!’ “ said Abe.
“Exactly. A point proved, an exposition made.”
This doesn’t sound real, but I’m sure that’s what we said—
I talk in a rather cracked bookish voice, for instance, with really quite well balanced sentences.

90 Long engagements, nothing to do but to marry or quarrel so I decided to quarrel.

91 I didn’t do it,” he said, using the scented “I”

92 They get thrown together so much. They have to kiss each other so much. That’s the danger of the stage. They get thrown together.

93 Remember you’re physically repulsive to me

94 By opposing to them a tensity such as a quarterback opposes to a big tackle coming down to take him out. All right—into this smaller compass between my muscle I will interpose a (something—look up) of tissue that will stand you—but something more, big boy, I will wear you out psychologically until you give me the game, until I fascinate you like whatever beasts of prey go in for fascination.

95 Just suppose you tried to put over a point by main strength. Look here, I’d take this fixture, this lamp, anything, and crack you with it.”

96 Learn young about hard work and good manners—and you’ll be through the whole dirty mess and nicely dead again before you know it.

97 Now it’s all as useless as repeating a dream.

98 The Caux Count’s Bricks.

99 “There seems to be some man named Jack that all the waiters want to see,” he remarked seriously.
“That means money.”
“Oh Jack means money. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes I see—jack.”

100 Will you be long in Naples? That sounds like Hugo’s All you want to know in German. Don’t you know the questions? Are all your rooms taken and is attendance included?
Do not shut the windows entirely.
We will finish up with black coffee cigars and liqueurs.
I always like that one.
I used one of those pamphlets once in Italy—confessed.

101 I’m going to break that stubborn stupid part of you that thinks that any American woman who has met Brancuse is automatically genius and entitled ever after to leave the dishes and walk around with her head in the clouds.

102 They read a couple of books and see a few pictures because they haven’t got anything else to do, and then they say they’re finer in grain than you are, and to prove it they take the bit in their teeth and tear off for a fare-you-well just about as sensitive as a fire horse.

103 You look to me like a very ordinary three piece suit

104 I still don’t understand why we’re not only the boat— why we’re on the rocking house.

105 “This here nigger’s my boy Hugo.”
“Your son!” The girl stared from one to the other in wild fascination.
“No, he’s my body-servant. I guess you’d call it. We call a nigger a boy down yonder.”

106 Man to Woman “You look as if you wanted excitement—is that true?”

107 Go and sleep with a cheap skate—go on—it’d do you good. It would take another little tuck in your soul and you’d fit better, be more comfortable.

108 I’m sore—I’m going home and read fine print.

109 Francis says he wants to go away and try his personality on a lot of new people.

110 He drew himself up with a dignified hiccup.
“That was before repeal,” he said, “I am now tryin to stand behind the President.”
“But you’re not standing behind the President,” objected Georgy, “You’re—teetering.”

111 “You went out of your way to make a preposterous attack on an old gentlewoman who had given you nothing but courtesy and consideration.”

112 “I have decided that the office cannot continue to hold both you and me. One of us must go—which shall it be?”
“Well, Mr. Wrackham, your name is painted on the doors—I suppose it would be simpler if you stayed.”

113 “My last husband was thrown from his horse. You must learn to ride.” He takes one look around uneasily for a horse..

114 “We throw in one of these flowers. You know how frails are—if a stone sails in they put up a yelp—if it’s a rose they think there’s the Prince of Wales at last.”

115 That one about the four girls named Meg who fall down the rabbit hole

116 He wants to make a goddess out of me and I want to be Mickey Mouse.

117 Sara’s remark “Can’t they get along with anybody?”

118 Third class passengers (Archie on boat)

119 No, there is no one here. Pay attention. No one I say, or if there is one like another. Pay attention.

120 “Everytime some debutante decides to dazzle the world there’s another flop due on Broadway.

121 Mr. Powell by a circular motion of his finger sped Hugo on the designated mission. Then he seated himself gingerly in a rocking-chair and began revolving his thatched straw hat rapidly in his hands.

122 “Yes mamn, if necessary. Look here, you take a girl and she goes into some cafe where she’s got no business to go. Well then her escort he gets a little too much to drink an’ he goes to sleep an’ then some other fella comes up and says ’Hello, sweet mamma’ or whatever one of those mashers says up here. What does she do? She can’t scream, on accout of no real lady’ll scream nowadays—no—she just reaches down in her pocket and slips her fingers into a pair of Powell’s defensive brassknuckles, debutante’s size, executes what I call the Scoeity Hook, and Wham! that big fella’s on his way to the cellar.

123 “Well—what—what’s the guitar for?” whispered the awed Amanthis. Do they have to knock somebody over with the guitar?”
“No, mamn! exclaimed Jim in horror. “No mamn. In my course no lady would be taught to raise a guitar against anybody. I teach ’em to play. Shucks! you ought to hear ’em. Why when I’ve given ’em two lessons you’d think some of ’em was colored.

124 “What are they doing?” whispered Amanthis to Jim.
“That there’s a course in southern accent. Lot of young men up here want to learn southern accent—so we teach it— Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Eastern Shore, Ole Virginian. Some of ’em even want straight nigger—for song purpose.’’

125 Why aren’t you at Captain’s table?

126 Dinah’s “you’ll spoil everything.”

127 Don’t you think you’re sort of hogging your son, Mrs. So and So?

128 “Nothing and nothing make nothing.”
“What was that Mrs. X said?”
“What was it you said, Mrs. X? Let us listen and next time we’ll hear her. She says priceless things. What was it you said, Mrs. X?”
“I said ’Nothing and nothing make nothing.’ “

129 To Bertram Russell:
“Well, for Christ’s sake, I’m not keeping you.”
“Thanks for your polite curses. I have nothing against you. In fact I etc. and had meant to etc. I do believe there is a certain class of Englishmen who profit by a good peck in my backside occasionally. And there is a certain section of my countrymen who take pleasure in giving it very much as to make it clear, it was once considered a good rag at Eton to kick physically the bottom of the current candidates for the kingdoms of Abysinnia and Spain.”
Your Lordship’s Most Obediant Servant

130 “Oh last month they had pictures of a lot of girls, only under mine it said that it was Miss Somebody Curtis from Philadelphia who was visiting in the city.” She groaned, “That was the last straw.”

131 Biggest laugh of the seasing.

132 Adjust my strap.

133 Hey, set still. Doan get so excited. You’d think you was the firs guy ever got boined.

134 Frances’ “Terribly Aryan looking”

135 Girl on train who said “So bigoted”

136 Bud Murray’s inferior complex.

137 Ogden and Jesus

138 The Bowes children: “I blame it on the door,” and “I didn’t push her—she didn’t break her leg—see, it’s on.”

139 “The time I fell off a closet shelf.
“You what?”
“I fell off a shelf—and he put it in the paper.”
“Well, what were you doing?”
“I just happened to be up on a shelf and I fell off.”
“Oh, don’t say it.”
“I’ve stopped giving any further explanations. Anyhow father said it was news.”

140 “I feel panicky, “she confessed. “Last Christmas I thought I was through with boys and then one night in May up at New Haven the orchestra kept playing Poor Butterfly over and over again and lots of them were in uniform already and they all got touching and romantic like they used to be. I began thinking suppose the war lasts five or ten years more and they all get killed. Every day I wait I’ll have less men to choose from—and if I wait till I fall in love again I’ll just wait forever.”

1786 “They’re two of us”
“Oh, there are? So that’s it. I noticed things were costing, and I thought I saw something, but I thought it was one of the work relief projects.”

1798 In Train. “Here’s where we’re going—” And then as they looked hastily out the window at a graveyard, “But not now”.

(D) Description of Things and Atmosphere

141 The wind shivered over the leaves, over the white casements—then as if it was beauty it could not stand, jumped out the window and climbed down from the cornice on the corner.
Then it came to ground. All that had happened was that green had blown through the wind and back and returned to settle on the same red walls, waving it forever after as a green flag, a heavy, ever bearded, ever un-shaven flag, like water when you drop a petal in it, like a woman’s dress and then the little trickles that wound about the casements—faint, somnescent and gone.
After that silence—the wind blowing the curtains. The cross child you had to scold. The moment had gone. The moment had come and existed for a minute. A lacy light played once more—a scherzo, no a new prelude to ever blooming, ever greening and he was sorry for what he had ever said or thought.
Once more the wind was dead. There was only one leaf flickering against the white casement. Perhaps there was someone back of it being happy.

142 The pleasant, ostentatious boulevard was lined at prosperous intervals with New England Colonial houses—without ship models in the hall. When the inhabitants moved out here the ship models had at last been given to the children. The next street was a complete exhibit of the Spanish-bungalow phase of West Coast architecture; while two streets over, the cylindrical windows and round towers of 1897— melancholy antiques which sheltered swamis, yogis, fortune tellers, dressmakers, dancing teachers, art academies and chiropractors—looked down now upon brisk busses and trolley cars. A little walk around the block could, if you were feeling old that day be a discouraging affair.
On the green flanks of the modern boulevard children, with their knees marked by the red stains of the mercurochrome era, played with toys with a purpose— beams that taught engineering, soldiers that taught manliness, and dolls that taught motherhood. When the dolls were so banged up that they stopped looking like real babies and began to look like dolls, the children developed affection for them. Everything in the vicinity—even the March sunlight—was new, fresh, hopeful and thin, as you would expect in a city that had tripled its population in fifteen years.

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.

149 A sudden gust of rain blew over them and then another—as if small liquid clouds were bouncing along the land. Lightening entered the sea far off and the air blew full of crackling thunder.

150 The table cloths blew around the pillars. They blew and blew and blew. The flags twisted around the red chairs like live things, the banners were ragged, the corners of the tables tore off through the burbling, billowing ends of the cloths.] There was Pat O’Mara, his hands, adequate enough smoothing hair. Blow, banners, blow. You in ermine slow down you, slow, whip, no snap, only whip wind in the corners of the tables. Can I have a flower if they don’t want one.

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.

157 The curious juxtapositions made him feel the profound waves of change that had already washing this country—the desperate war that had rendered the plantation house absolete, the industrialization that had spoiled the easy-going life centuring around the old court house. And then the years yielding up eventually in the backwater those curious young products who were neither peasants, nor bourgeois, nor scamps, but a little of all three, gathered there in front of the store.

158 New York’s flashing, dynamic good looks, its tall man’s quick-step.

159 Afterward they would drive around until they found the center of the summer night and park there while the enchanted silence spread over them like leaves over the babes in the wood.

160 Stevedores appeared momentarily against the lighted hold of a barge and jerked quickly out of sight down an invisible incline.

161 Whining, tinkling hoochie-coochie show.

162 The first lights of the evening were springing into pale existence. The Ferris wheel, pricked out now in lights, revolved leisurely through the dusk; a few empty cars of the roller coaster rattled overhead.

163 Metropolitan days and nights that were tense as singing wires.

164 The late sun glinted on the Mississippi flats a mile away.

165 When the stars were bright enough to compete with the bright lamps.

166 The limousine crawled crackling down the pebbled drive.

167 Three frail dock lights glittered dimly upon innumerable fishing boats heaped like shells along the beach. Farther out in the water there were other lights where a fleet of slender yachts rode the tide with slow dignity, and farther still a full ripe moon made the water bosom into a polished dancing floor.

168 That stream of silver that waved like a wide strand of curly hair toward the moon.

169 The club lay in a little valley, almost roofed over by willows, and down through their black silhouettes, in irregular blobs and patches, dripped the light of a huge harvest moon. As they parked the car, Basil’s tune of tunes, Chinatown drifted from the windows and dissolved into its notes which thronged like elves through the glade.

170 Deep autumn had set in, with a crackling wind from the west.

171 Next door they were scrubbing a building upon a lit-up platform. It was fun to see it come out all bright and new.

172 The hotel we selected—The Hotel de la Morgue—was small and silent enough to suit even the most refined taste.

173 The droning of frogs in the Aislette Valley covered the sound of the bringing up of our artillery.

174 In the afternoon they came to a lake. It was a cup of a lake with lily pads for dregs and a smooth surface of green cream.

175 You can order it in four sizes; demi (half a litre), distingue (one litre), formidable (three litres), and catastrophe (five litres).

176 In the deep locker-room of the earth.

177 The rear wall was formed by a wide flag of water, falling from a seam in the rock ceiling, and afterwards draining into some lower level cave beyond.

Dogs, chickens with few claws, brass fittings, T’s elbow, rust everywhere, bales of metal 1800 lbs., plumbing fixtures, bathtubs, sinks, water pumps, wheels, Fordson tractor, Acetylene lamps for tractors, sewing machine, bell on dingy, box of bolts, No. 1 van, stove, auto stuff (No. 2), army trucks, cast iron, body hot dog stand, dinky engines, sprockets like watch parts, hinge all taken apart on building side, motorcycle radiators, George on the high army truck.

179 Across the street from me in Hendersonville, N.C. is a movie sign, usually with a few bulbs out in the center. It reads tonight: The Crusades: the Flaming Passion of a Woman Torn Between Two Camps.
This is the right idea and to aid in the campaign to prove that a woman (not women mind you—that point is granted) is at the tiller in every storm, I submit the following suggestions to draw in the elder gadgets and their tokens.
Huckleberry Finn—how a girl changed the life of a Missouri boy.

180 A strip of straw, half-braided, that fell across another desk.

181 A region of those monotonous apartment rows that embody the true depths of the city—darkly mysterious at night, drab in the afternoon.

182 Memory of coming into Washington.

183 All of a sudden the room struck like a clock.

184 For a while the big liner, so sure and proud in the open sea, was shoved ignominously around by the tugs like a helpless old woman.

185 There were Roman legionaries with short, bright swords and helmets and shields shining with gilt, a conqueror in his chariot with six horses, and an entourage of sparkling, plumed Roman knights, captured Gauls in chains, Greeks in buskins and tunics of Ionian blue, black Egyptians in flashing desert reds with images of Isis and Osiris, a catapult and, in person Hannibal, Caesar, Rameses and Alexander.

186 The evening gem play of New York was already taking place outside the window. But as Charlie gazed at it, it seemd to him tawdry and theatrical, a great keeping up of appearances after the reality was gone. Each new tower was something erected in defiance of obvious and imminent disaster; each beam of light a final despairing attempt to pretend that all was well.
“But they had their time. For a while they represented a reality. These things are scarcely built; not a single generation saw them and passed away before we ceased to believe.”

187 The rhythm of the weekend with its birth, its planned gaieties and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.

188 The blurred world seen from a merry-go-round settled into place; the merry-go-round suddenly stopped.

189 The city’s quick metropolitan rhythm of love and birth and death that supplied dreams to the unimaginative, pageantry and drama to the drab.

190 Spring came sliding up the mountain in wedges and spear points of green.

191 Far out past the breakers he could survey the green-and-brown line of the Old Dominion with the pleasant impersonality of a porpoise. The burden of his wretched marriage fell away with the buoyant tumble of his body among the swells, and he would begin to move in a child’s dream of space. Sometimes remembered playmates of his youth swam with him; sometimes, with his two sons beside him, he seemed to be setting off along the bright pathway to the moon. Americans, he liked to say, should be born with fins, and perhaps they were—perhaps money was a form of fin. In England property begot a strong place sense, but Americans, restless and with shallow roots, needed fins and wings. There was even a recurrent idea in America about an education that would leave out history and the past, that should be a sort of equipment for aerial adventure, weighed down by none of the stowaways of inheritance or tradition.

192 The nineteen wild green eyes of a bus were coming up to them through the dark.

193 The mingling and contrast of the silver lines of car track and the gold of the lamps, the streams of light rippling on the old road and the lamps on the bridge, and then when the rain had stopped the shadows of the maple leaves on the picket fence.

194 The train gave out a gurgle and a forlorn burst of false noise, and with a clicking strain of couplers pulled forward a few hundred yards.

195 When the freight stopped next the stars were out, so sudden that Chris was dazzled. The train was on a rise. About three miles ahead he saw a cluster of lights fainter and more yellow than the stars, that he figured would be Dallas.

196 The music indoors was strange in the summer; it lay uneasily upon the pulsing heat, disturbed by the loud whir of the fans.

197 There were only the colleges and the country clubs. The parks were cheerless, without beer and mostly without music. They ended at the monkey house or at some imitation French vista. They were for children—for adults there was nothing.

198 A half-displayed packet of innocuous post cards warranted to be very dirty indeed.

199 Against the bar a group of ushers was being photographed, and the flash-light surged through the room in a stifling cloud.

200 In one corner of the ballroon an arrangement of screens like a moving-picture stage had been set up and photographers were taking official pictures of the bridal party. The bridal party, still as death and pale as wax under the bright lights, appeared, to the dancers circling the modulated semidarkness of the ballroom, like those jovial or sinister groups that one comes upon in The Old Mill at an amusement park.

201 She thought of electric fans in little restaurants with lobsters on ice in the windows, and of pearly signs glittering and revolving against the obscure, urban sky, the hot, dark sky. And pervading everything, a terribly strange, brooding mystery of roof tops and empty apartments, of white dresses in the paths of parks, and fingers for stars and faces instead of moons, and people with strange people scarcely knowing one another’s names.

202 Drawing away from the little valley, past pink pines and fresh, diamond-strewn snow.

203 A sound of clinking waiters.

204 The music started again. Under the trees the wooden floor was red in the sun.

205 Phonograph roared new German tangoes into the smoke and clatter.

206 Cannes in the season—he was filling the cafe, the light which blazed against the white poplar bark and green leaves with sprightlier motes of his own creation—he saw it vivid with dresses just down from Paris and giving off a sweet pungent odor of flowers and chartreuse and fresh black coffee and cigarettes, and mingled with these another scent, the mysterious thrilling scent of love. Hands touched jeweled hands over the white tables; the vivid gowns and the shirt fronts swayed together and matches were held, trembling a little, for slow lighting cigarettes.

207 Parts of New Jersay, as you know, are under water, and other parts are under continual surveillance by the authorities. But here and there lie patches of garden country dotted with old-fashioned frame mansions, which have wide shady porches and a red swing on the lawn. And perhaps, on the widest and shadiest of the porches there is even a hammock left over from the hammock days, stirring gently in a Victorian wind.

208 The battered hacks waiting at the station; the snow-covered campus, the big open fires in the club houses.

209 Not long after noon—he could tell by the thin shadow of the shutter.

210 Duty, Honor, Country, West Point—the faded banners on the chapel walls.

211 But while the crowd surged into the bright stadium like lava coming down a volcano from the craters of the runways.

212 No one has even seen Richerees, near Asheville because the windows fog with smoke just before you get there.

213 The — Hotel was planned to give rest and quiet to tired and overworked business men and overwrought and over societied women.

214 When opened up the fish smelled like a very stuffy room.

215 Trolley running on the crack of dawn

216 An old style flivver crushed the obliterated borders of the path.

217 It was a not at all the remodelled type of farmhouse favored by the wealthy, it was pristine. No wires, and one was sure no pipes led to it.

218 Occasionally two yellow disks would top a rise ahead of them and take shape as a late-returning automobile. Except for that they were alone in a continual rushing dark. The moon had gone down.

219 The decks were bright and restless, but bow and stern were in darkness so the boat had no more outline than an accidental cluster of stars. Francis took the trip one lonely evening.

220 One of those places they used to call somebody’s “Folly.” Already for a whole slew of people who weren’t there—hopeful little shops built into the hotel, some open and some closed.

221 There was rosy light still on that big mountain, the Pic de Something of the Dent de Something, because the world was round or for some such reason. Bundled up children were splattering in for tea as if the outdoors were tired of them and wanted to change its dress in quiet dignity. Down in the valley there were already bright windows and misty glows from the houses and hotels of the town.

222 The sun was already waving gold, green and white flags on the Wildstrubel.

223 Its familiar light and books and last night’s games always pushed just out of sight under something, the piano with last night’s songs still open on it.

224 A toiling sweating sun stoked the sky overhead.

225 Green jars and white magnolias

226 Clairmont Avenue

227 Shallows in the Lake of day

228 Colors at Oregon: gold, dark green, little white buoys on safety rope, background white figures, grey underpinnings—all seen thru foliage dark and light green.

229 Bird call: Weecha, weecha, weecha, weecha eat?

230 Suddenly the room rang like a diamond in all four corners.

231 Josephine picked them out presently below a fringe by their well-known feet—Travis de Coppet’s deft, dramatic feet; Ed Bement’s stern and uncompromising feet; the high, button shoes of some impossible girl.

232 He passed an apartment house that jolted his memory. It was on the outskirts of town, a pink horror built to represent something, somewhere, so cheaply and sketchily that whatever it copied the architect must have long since forgotten.

233 The two orchestras moaned in pergolas lit with fireflies, and many-colored spotlights swept the floor, touching a buffet where dark bottles gleamed.

234 Abruptly it became full summer. After the last April storm someone came along the street one night, blew up the trees like balloons, scattered bulbs and shrubs like confetti, opened a cage full of robins and, after a quick look around, signaled up the curtain upon a new backdrop of summer sky.

235 White chestnut blossoms slanted down across the tables and dropped impudently into the butter and the wine. Julia Ross ate a few with her bread.

236 The stench of cigars in small houses. (Remember it with old mill.)

237 Zelda’s worn places in yard and hammock.

238 The river flowed in a thin scarlet gleam between the public baths and the massed tracks upon the other side. Booming, whistling, far-away railroad sounds reached them from down there; the voices of children playing tennis in Prospect Park sailed frailly overhead.

239 God’s whitest whiskers dissolved before a roaring plane bound for Corsica.

240 The corpses of million blue fish.

241 Bryn Mawr coverlet.

242 Her face flushed with cold, etc. (more to this)

243 It was a crisp cold night with frost shooting along the grass.

244 the familiar, unforgotten atmosphere of many Negroes and voices pleading-calm and girls painted bright as savages to stand out against the tropical summer.

245 The Grand Duc had just begun its slow rattling gasp for life in the inertness of the weakest hour.

246 Out the window, the snow on the pine trees had gone lilac in the early dusk.

247 The lights of many battleships drifting like water jewels upon the dark Hudson.

248 We looked out at the port where the rocking masts of boats pointed at the multitudinous stars.

249 The wind searched the walls for old dust.

250 cluster of murky brown doors so alike that to be identified it seemed that hers must be counted off from abutting blackness of an alley.

251 listless disorder

252 on the sky-blue sky, the clouds low above the prairie, the grand canyonesque architecture of the cliffs, the cactus penguins extending conciliatory arms

253 the new trees, the new quivering life, the new shadows that designed new terrain on the old

254 The main room, for which no adequate name has yet been found in the Republic.

255 Hot Springs:
In a Spring vacation hotel the rain is bad news indeed. The hundred French windows of the great galleries led the eye out to ink-and-water pines snivelling listlessly on to raw brown tennis courts, to desolate hills against soiled white sky. There was “nothing to do” for hotel and resort were one and the same and no indoor activity was promised on the bulletin board until the concert of the Princeton Glee Club Easter Monday. Women who had come to breakfast in riding clothes rushed to the hairdresser instead; at eleven the tap-k’tap of ping-pong balls was the only sound of life in the enormous half empty hotel.
The girl was one of a pair in white skirts and yellow sweaters who walked down the long gallery after breakfast. Her face reflected the discontent of the weather, reflected darkly and resentfully. Looking at her Deforrest Colman thought: “Bored and fierce,” and then as his eyes continued to follow her, “No, proud and impatient. Not that either, but what a face—vitality and hand cuffs—where’s this getting me—liver and bacon, Damon and Pythias, Laurel and Hardy.

256 The German band started to play on deck but the sweeping majesty of the city made the march trivial and tinkling; after a moment it died away.

257 The gaunt scaffolding of Coney Island slid by.

258 Save for two Russian priests playing chess their party was alone in the smoking room.

259 Everybody in the room was hot. There was a faint flavor of starch on the air that leaked out to the lovely garden.

260 One of those huge spreading hotels of the capital, built to shelter politicians, retired officers suddenly discovering themselves (homeless, of ginless in their retirements, foreigners with axes to grind) without a native town, legation staffs, and women fascinated by one of the outer rings of officialdom— everyone could have their Congressman or Minister, if not their Senator or Ambassador—

261 The terrible way the train had seemed to foreshorten and hurry as it got into motion.

262 It was already eight o’clock when they drove off into a windy twilight. The sun had gone behind Naples, leaving a sky of pigeon’s blood and gold, and as they rounded the bay and climbed slowly toward Torredell Annunziata, the Mediterranean momentarily toasted the fading splendor in pink wine. Above them loomed Vesuvius and from its crater a small persistent fountain of smoke contributed darkness to the gathering night. “We ought to reach our destination about twleve,” said Nosby. No one answered. The city had disappeared behind a rise of ground and now they were alone, where the Maffia sprang out of rank human weeds and the Black Hand rose to throw its ominous shadow across two continents. There was something eerie in the sound of the wind over these gray mountains, crowned with decayed castles. Hallie suddenly shivered.

263 Motor boat like clock tick.

264 The sky that looks like smoke on Charles Street

265 Feeling at Francis Fox like cat-house.

266 Orange in Province

267 He heard them singing and looked down toward the lights. There was a trembling of the leaves before they passed.

268 Night at Fair—Eyes awakening.

269 March—The crepe myrtle was under corn stalks

270 “I’m glad I’m American,” she said. “Here in Italy I feel that everybody’s dead. Carthaginians and old Romans and Moorish pirates and medieval princes with poisoned rings—”
The solemn gloom of the countryside communicated itself to all of them.
The wind had come up stronger and was groaning through the dark-massed trees along the way.

271 White and inky night

272 A soft bell hummed midnight

273 In children’s books forests are sometimes made out of all-day suckers, boulders out of peppermints and rivers out of gently flowing, rippling molasses taffy. Such books are less fantastic than they sound for such localities exist, and one day a girl, herself little more than a child, sat dejected in the middle of one. It was all hers, she owned it; she owned Candy Town.

274 The red dusk was nearly gone but she had advanced into the last patch of it

275 Yellow and lavender filled her eyes, yellow for the sun through yellow shades and lavender for the quilt, swollen as a cloud and drifting in soft billows over the bed. Suddenly she remembered her appointment and uncovering her arms she squirmed into a violet negligee, flipped back her hair with a circular movement of her head and melted into the color of the room.

276 Lying awake in bed that night he listened endlessly to the long caravan of a circus moving through the street from one Paris fair to another. When the last van had rumbled out of hearing and the corners of the furniture was pastel blue with the dawn, he was still thinking.

277 The road was lined sparsely by a row of battered houses, some of them repainted a pale unhealthy blue and all of them repainted far back in large plots of shaggy and unkempt land.

278 It was a collapsed house, a retired house, set far back from the road and sunned and washed to the dull color of old wood.
One glance told him it was no longer a dwelling. The shutters that remained were closed tight, and from the tangled vines arose, as a single chord, a rich shrill sound of a hundred birds. John Jackson left the road and stalked across the yard knee-deep in abandoned grass.

279 Stifling as curtain dust

280 The pavements grew sloppier and the snow in the gutters melted into dirty sherbet.

281 The sea was dingy grey and swept with rain. Canvas sheltered all the open portions of the promenade deck, even the ping-pong table was wet.

282 It was the Europa—a moving island of light. It grew larger minute by minute, swelled into a harmonious fairyland with music from its deck and searchlights playing on its own length. Through field-glasses they could discern figures lining the rail and Evelyn spun out the personal history of a man who was pressing his own pants in a cabin. Charmed they watched its sure matchless speed.
“Oh, Daddy, buy me that!” Evelyn cried.

283 She climbed a network of steel, concrete and glass, walked under a high echoing dome and came out into New York.

284 hammock was of the particularly hideous yellow peculiar to hammocks.

285 adorned in front by an enormous but defunct motometer and behind by a mangy pennant bearing the legend “Tarleton, Ga.” In the dim past someone had begun to paint the hood yellow but unfortunately had been called away when but half through the task.

286 On all sides faintly irregular fields stretched away to a faintly irregular unpopulated horizon.

287 In the light of four strong pocket flash lights, borne by four sailors in spotless white, a gentleman was shaving himself, standing clad only in athletic underwear upon the sand. Before his eyes an irreproachable valet held a silver mirror which gave back the soapy reflection of his face. To right and left stood two additional menservants, one with a dinner coat and trousers hanging from his arm and the other bearing a white stiff shirt whose studs glistened in the glow of the electric lamps. There was not a sound except the dull scrape of the razoe along its wielder’s face and the intermittent groaning sound that blew in out of the sea.

288 But here beside the warm friendly rain that tumbled from his eaves onto the familiar lawn

289 Next morning, walking with Knowleton under starry frosted bushes in one of the bare gardens, she grew quite light-hearted.

290 “Ballroom,” for want of a better word. It was that room, filled by day with wicker furniture, which was always connotated in the phrase “Let’s go in and dance.” It was referred to as “inside” or “downstairs.” It was that nameless chamber wherein occur the principal transactions of all the country clubs in America.

291 They were there. The Cherbourg breakwater, a white stone snake, glittered along the sea at dawn; behind it red roofs and steeples and then small, neat hills traced with a warm orderly pattern of toy farms. “Do you like this French arrangement?” it seemed to say. “It’s considered very charming, but if you don’t agree just shift it about—set this road here, mis steeple there. It’s been done before, and it always comes out lovely in the end.”
It was Sunday morning, and Cherbourg was in flaring collars and high lace hats. Donkey carts and diminutive automobiles moved to the sound of incessant bells.

292 Those were the dog days. Out at the lake there was a thin green scum upon the water and in the city a last battering exhausting heat wave softened the asphalt till it retained the ghastly prints of human feet. In those days there was one auto for every 200 inhabitants so in the evening

293 A large but quick restaurant.

294 Aeolian or Wind-built Islands

295 They all went to the porch, where the children silhouetted themselves in silent balance on the railing and unrecognizable people called greeting as they passed along the dark dusty street.

296 The first lights of the evening were springing into pale existence

297 At three o’clock in the morning, grey broken old women scrub the floors of the great New York Hotels.

298 (Missed) re great flatness of American life when everything had the same value—the cook’s complaint etc. etc.

299 The run to the purple mountains and back.

300 Spring had come early to the Eastern seaboard-thousands of tiny black surprise berries on every tree were shining with anticipation and a fresh breeze wafted them south all day.

301 Is there anything more soothing than the quiet whir of a lawnmower on a summer afternoon?

302 A Mid-Victorian wind.

303 This restaurant with a haunted corner.

304 Lunar Rainbow

305 New Jersey village where even Sunday is only a restless lull between the crash of trains.

306 Elevators look like two big filing cabinets.

307 Out in the suburbs, chalk white windows looked down indifferently at them in sleeping roads.

308 The abundent waiters at Dartmouth seemed to me rather comedy characters—I mean not in themselves but in their roles. They go all out of character and begin to talk to the guests just like the man who hires himself out to do that.

309 St. Paul in 1855 (or ’66)—The rude town was like a great fish just hauled out of the Mississippi and still leaping and squirming on its bank.

310 The lobby of the Hotel Roi d’Angleterre was as desolate as a school house after school. In the huge, scarcely completed palace a few servants scurried about like rabbits, a few guests sidled up to the concierge, spoke in whispers and vanished with a single awed look around at the devastating emptiness. They were mostly women escaped from the deep melancholy at home, and finding that the torture chamber was preferable to the tomb.

311 Passing the building which housed the negro wards. The patients were singing as always. Among the voices that lay suspended in sweet melancholy on the August air in the early summer night, Owen recognized the deep base of Doofus who had been there two years—an interne on that ward had told him that Doofus was due to die; his place in the chorus would be hard to fill.

312 Red and yellow villas, called Fleur des Bois, Mon Nid, or Sans-Souci.

1726 Car description on quiet night, padded hush of tires, quiet tick of a motor running idle at curb.

1727 There was a bright sun and a wind, and the woods were singing.

1753 The mechanical sound of pingpong balls on a rainy afternoon.

1763 Early dark of a December afternoon in 1929. Lower New York and all the great blocks still gleaming with light, and after five going out row by row but with many tiers still gleaming out into the crisp dusk.

1764 In Spring when there was no leaf dry enough to crackle and the loudest sound was a dog barking in the next county.

1767 There was only spring whispering in the air, faint as the flutter of last year’s leaf.

1773 Swallowy air, velvet texture of the air on the Spartansburg road.

1779 Trees resting gold green bosoms on the water of Lake Lanier.

1780 Zelda picking pink flowers from the sedge.

1782 Zelda says of the Cevennes——chestnut trees, ghosts and a lone cow.

1784 The kind of man who stamps just before he laughs or shoves forward your chair with each change of emotion.

1791 Houses of 1925 overflowing with the first editions of Joseph Hergersheimer and colored toilet paper.

1800 Misty, enchanted arbors of light

1801 The deep South from the air—a mosaic of baseball diamonds set between dark little woods.

(E) Epigrams, Wise Cracks and Jokes

313 A man says to another man: “I’d certainly like to steal your girl. Second man: “I’d give her to you, but she’s part of a set.”

314 Has D.P. injured you anyway. No, but don’t remind her. Maybe she hasn’t done her bad deed for the day.

315 The movies are the only court where the judge goes to the lawyer for advice.

316 Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy.

317 Not a word in the Roosevelt inaugural was as logical as Zangara saying he shot at Roosevelt because he had a stomach ache.

318 Agility (vitality)—pleasing people you perversely shouldn’t please and can’t reach.

319 Her unselfishness came in pretty small packages well wrapped.

320 After all the portrait of an old shoe by Van Gogh hangs in the Louvre, but where is there a portrait of Van Gogh by an old shoe.

321 Berry Wall. He doesn’t dare go back. He was drafted for the Civil War and he doesn’t know it’s over.

322 Optimism is the content of small men in high places.

323 Send up a fat bell boy and a whip.

324 She’s bashful. She has small pox. She stumbles so she couldn’t get up.

325 Wouldn’t a girl rather have half of him than a whole Spic with a jar of pomade thrown in? Life was so badly arranged—better no women at all than only one woman.

326 One of those tragic efforts like repainting your half of a delapidated double house.

327 Bryan to Darrow. Fellow Apes of the Scopes trial.

328 Trying to support a large and constantly increasing French family who jokingly referred to themselves as “our servants.”

329 Sent a girl flowers on Mother’s Day.

330 You don’t write because you want to say something; you write because you’ve got something to say.

331 The cleft palate (crested parrot): “Bring it along.” “Can’t very well leave it home.”

332 Genius is the ability to put into effect what is in your mind. There’s no other definition of it.

333 Get a man for Elspeth, a man for Elspeth, was the cry. This was difficult because Elspeth had had so many men. Two of her sisters rode, so to speak, Elspeth’s discarded mounts.

334 Nervous system from Pthodemy Club (Dean Clark’s)

335 Switzerland is a country where very few things begin, but many things end.

336 A machine for blowing the movable snot from the nasal cavities of

337 No such word in the English language as Cannes.

338 An American—Ou allez-vous pour les huitre (meaning Easter.)

339 Irish chemist.

340 Cotton manufacturer who worries because African chiefs go in for rayon.

341 No grand idea was ever born in a conference but a lot of foolish ideas have died there.

342 Ye Old Hooke Shoppe

343 Movie man says about engaged current mistress of

344 Genius goes around the world in its youth incessantly apologizing for having large feet. What wonder that later in life it should be inclined to raise those feet too swiftly to fools and bores.

345 Death in most countries is considered practically fatal.

346 When anyone announces to you how little they drink you can- be sure it’s a regime they just started.

347 Thank gravity for working your bowels.

348 No such thing as a man willing to be honest—that would be like a blind man willing to see.

349 Hospitality is a wonderful thing. If people really want you they’ll have you even if the cook has just died in the house of small-pox.

350 Suddenly he turned in bed and put both his arms around her arm. Her free hand touched his hair.
“You’ve been bad,” she said.
“I can’t help it.”
She sat with him silently for half an hour; then she changed her position so that her arm was under his head. Stooping over him, she kissed him on the brow. (See Two Wrongs.)

351 Any walk through a park that runs between a double line of mangy trees and passes brazenly by the ladies’ toilet is invariably known as “Lover’s Lane.”

352 Gynecologist to trace his pedigree.

353 Women are going to refuse to build with anything but crushed brick.

354 Not 1% of the dressed up biddies of the Junior League could possibly be regarded as ladies except by each other.

355 Brushes called Andy and Bill Gump

356 Few people die of sin, but a complications of sins

357 The Black Shirt
The Brown Shirt
The Stuffed Shirt

358 Wanted for
6 C. grade for pipe laying
1 A grade moron (experienced foreman)
2 B grade imbeciles 3 o’clock ask for Mr. Jones

359 Magazine—the Parlor Pink

360 Proud words that eventually revenged themselves by meaning nothing at all

361 One of toughs: he’s rich, he’s got caviare between his teeth

362 Secret of the Balkans

363 Blackmail “Made sweet moan”

364 Shy beaten man named Victor
Clumsy girls named Grace
Great truck drivers named Earl and Cecil

365 She was one of those people who would just as soon starve in a garret with a man—if she didn’t have to.

366 Beatrice Lillie broke up the British Empire with “March to the Roll of the Drums”

367 Mencken forgives much to the Catholic church perhaps because it has an index

368 All my characters killed each other off in the first act because I couldn’t think of any more hard boiled things for them to say.

369 They thought a child would be nice too because they had a nursery and the Harold Lloyds had one.

370 They have more money (Earnest’s wisecrack)

371 She’s got to be a loyal, frank person if she’s got to bitch everyone in the world to do it.

372 For a statesman—any school child knows that hot air rises to the top

373 Nothing to do but marry them (the Murphys)

374 Suicide and wife arrive in Cuba.

375 Let’s all live together.

376 Debut—the first time a young girl is seen drunk in public.

377 He repeated to himself an old French proverb he had made up that morning.

378 A sleeping porch is a back room with no pictures on the walls. It should contain at least one window.

379 Kill the scrub sire is our slogan.

380 Why can’t you be square? Well, when I was young I used to play with old automobile tires.

381 Forgotten is forgiven.

382 If all your clothes are worn to the same state it means you go out too much.

383 American actresses now use European convents as a sort of female Muldoon’s.

384 You must stoop a little in order to jump.

385 For a car—Excuse my lust.

386 Andre Gide lifted himself by his own jockstrap so to speak—and one would like to see him hoisted on his own pedarasty.

387 Creditors’ jokes

388 Like the man that crossed the ocean three times on the same woman.

389 Test of a good mind.

390 The guy that played Sergeant Quirt in Romeo & Juliet.

391 A poet named Constantly Aching did all the plagiarism for me.

392 Three men better known as Christ’s nails.

393 The spiritual stomach of the race was ruined those fifty years when mid-western women didn’t go to the toilet.

394 Take us to the Cambridge Legs—I mean the Cambridge Arms. Or any place around there.

395 To bring on the revolution it may be necessary to work inside the communist party.

396 They try to be Jesus (Forsyth) while I only attempt to be God, which is easier.

397 He said: Our Rhododendrons (roads are demned ’uns)

398 He had Cheyne-Store breathing.

399 To most women art is a form of scandal.

400 Impersonating 46 Presidents at once.

401 All things come to him who mates.

402 Trained nurses on duty should not be allowed to talk in their sleep.

403 “What kind of man was he?”
“Well, he was one of those men who come in a door and make any woman with them look guilty.”

404 Grown up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.

405 We put an ashtray in the window (for a lamp).

406 I’m on such a rigid diet they won’t even let me lick a stamp.

407 Dietitians: They have made great progress in the last few years. They know pretty definitely that bichloride of mercury or arsenic in the right dose will kill you and that food should probably be eaten rather than taken in gas form or over the radio.

408 Honi soit que Malibu

409 1870 made Clemenceau and Clemenceau made 1933

410 Trained nurses who eat as if they didn’t own the food but it was just lent them.

411 parked his pessimism in her sun-parlour.

412 No such thing as graceful old age

413 Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.

414 Bookkeeping is a subject without sex appeal

415 What is the point at which loan becomes property of loanee and at the offer of a refund one says “But I don’t like to take your money.” What is the point when one accepts return of loan with most profuse thanks.

416 The inevitable shallowness that goes with people who have learned everything by experience.

417 Somebody’s specimen hijacked on way to doctor’s.

418 The biggest temptation we can offer people to let us talk is to cry “say” (or dites) to them

419 “EX-WHITE-SLAVER,”—the authorship being identified with touching modesty as “By a Man Who Still is One.”

420 “This isn’t the south. This is the center of the country. We’re only polite half the time.”

421 “What’ll we do with the animals when you’re away?”
“You mean the roaches in the kitchen? We’ll leave those with the veterinarian—he’ll take care of them.”

422 A girl with ankles like that has no privileges.

423 I’m going through the crises of my life like railroad ties.

424 I’m from Washington
Fine—what’s the news from Moronsville

425 Lincoln’s “all the people.”

426 For Esther M. in memory of an old friendship or a prolonged quarrel that has gone on so long and accumulated so much moss that it is much the same thing.

427 Mr. and Mrs. Jay O’Brien moving like the center of population.

428 There are no second acts in American lives.

429 My Spitback, my Error, my Mistake (for divorsed husband)

430 Somewhat relieved to find he was fired—he had, so to speak, stuck it out to the end.

431 “I can’t pay you much,” said the editor to the author, “but I can give you some good publicity.”
“I can’t pay you much,” said the advertiser to the editor, “but I can give you some beautiful ads.”

432 God appears to man who discovers that he has unmistakable Japanese features.

433 When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.

434 Pacifism like bringing boy up to have brown skin on his—

435 Very bad jokes should be known as “employer’s jokes” or “creditor’s jokes.” The listener has to laugh heartily so it seems wasteful to use up a good story on him.

436 The kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female reptile, implying in a subtle, complimentary way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before.

437 You are contemplating a gigantic merger between J.P. Morgan and the Queensboro Bridge.

438 To Mathews: I certainly do wish I could grow up like you fellows and write about all the wonderful things that are happening in the newspapers. But here I sit like a big fat fairy thinking that maybe if I really knew why (club stuff here) I would really know almost as much about the social revolution as those deep thinkers Mike Gold ect.

439 Beware of him who would give his last sou to a beggar in the street. He would also give it to you and that is something you would not be able to endure.

440 Fashion Blessing. Think how many flappers would have been strangled like Porphyria except for bobbed hair.

441 Don’t get thinking it’s a real country because you can get a lot of high school kids into gym suits and have them spell out “bananas” for the news reels.

442 I used to hie you up to a nervous excitement that bore a resemblance to intelligence.

443 The priesthood: a method eating the cake of Christian ascetism and having it too.

444 I may be just an old visionary—but I seem to see Scottie walking around without overshoes.

445 Turnbull idea—Neo-post-thoreau

446 The young architect referred to women’s protuberances as “flying buttresses.”

447 It grows harder to write because there is much less weather than when I was a boy and practically no men and women at all.

1720 The 20th Century reached New York an hour late, and the station master made it back all the way to Chicago to get an excuse.

1728 Pershing shot for cowardice in 1918.

1732 The aristocracy can remake their manners overnight—if it were not for the philosophy of his story, the world would be governed by Louis-Phillipes (and Mary Harrimans)

1738 Of a man: It never entered his head that he was somewhat of a liability.

1751 Oh, I can cover paper like you do till I’m ninety.

1760 At M.I.T., he studied birth control, flood control, self control and remote control.

1777 One of those mysteries like why Southerners have big ears, and why chess is listed in the sporting news.

1788 Invention of two-end cork tip cigs.

1790 At Groton they have to sleep in gold cubicles and wash at an old platinum pump. This toughens them up so they can refuse to help the poor.

1797 “Wealth, wit and beauty of two continents.” “What’s the other continent?” “Africa. Starks is from Africa.”

1799 “When I go to bed at night, I put on so many blankets that I have to put a book-mark in to tell me where to get out.”
Nora Flynn.

1802 A movie wedding. Ushers were Harold Lloyd, Victor Varconi, Ronald Coleman, and Donald Duck.

(F) Feelings & Emotions (without girls)

448 Ah, it was a great feeling to relax—the best feeling, unlike any sinking down he had ever known before.
“I have half an hour, an hour, two hours, ten hours, a hundred hours. God Almighty, I have even time to take a drink of water from the cooler in the hall; I can sleep eight full hours tonight, with a piece of paper stuffed in the telephone buzzer; I can face everybody in the office knowing they’ll be paid again this week, the week after, the week after next!”
But most of all—he had that first half an hour. Having no one to communicate with, Andrew Fulton made sounds. One was like Whee-ee-ooo, but though it was expressive for awhile it palled presently, and he tried a gentle yawning sigh, but that was not enough. Now he knew what he wanted to do—he wanted to cry. He wanted to drink but there was nothing to drink, or to take his office force for an aeroplane ride or wake up his parents out of their graves and say, “Look—I too can rest.”

449 He might find the ecstasy and misery, the infatuation that he wanted.

450 The thrilling staccato joy of the meeting.

451 “I feel as if I had a cannon ball in my stomach.’’

452 Wait for what? Wait while he swam off into a firmament of his own, so far off that she could only see his feathers gleaming in the distance, only hear distantly the clamor of war or feel the vacuum that he created when sometimes he fell through space. He came back eventually with spoils, but for her there was always another larger waiting—for the end of youth, the blurring of her uniqueness—her two menacing deaths beside which mortal death was no more than sleep.

453 She looked lovely, but he thought of a terrible thing she had said once when they were first married—that if he were away she could sleep with another man and it wouldn’t really affect her, or make her really unfaithful to him. This kept him awake for another hour, but he had a little fine deep restful sleep toward morning.

454 the blind luck that had attended the industry, and he knew croupiers who raked in the earnings of that vast gambling house. And he knew that the Europeans were impressed with it as they were impressed with the sky­scrapers, as something without human rhythm or movement. They had left rhythm behind them and it was their rhythm he wanted. He was tired of his own rhythm and the rhythms of the people in Hollywood. He wanted to see people with more secrets than the necessity of concealing a proclivity for morphine.

455 Two Dreams
(1) A trip to Florida with Howard Garrish and many bathing beauties. Asleep standing on the prow the beach and girls dancing. The one one skates like skiis. Like Switzerland, far castles and palaces. The horseman in the sea, the motor truck on sand, the horsemen coming ashore, the Bishop rears, falls, the horse saves him. My room, suits and ties, the view, the soldiers drilling under arcs in khaki, the wonderful water man is now Tom Taylor, I buy and ties wake in strange room. Blunder into Mother who nags me. My mean remarks.
(2) The colored burglar. Found clothes in hotel—underwear, suit; I discover pocket book, Echenard, my accusation.

456 By the next morning she realized that she was the only one who cared, the only one who had the time and youth for the luxury of caring. Her aunt, her old cousins were mercifully anaesthetized against death— her brother was already worrying about his wife and children back in West Virginia. She and her father were alone; since the funeral had been held over for her the others somehow looked to her to summarize their grief. They were thin-drawn, worn out Anglo-Saxon stock and all that remained of their vitality seemed to have flowed by a mysterious distillation into her. They were chiefly interested in her. They wanted boldly to know whether it was true about the Prince of—

457 Slaves may love their bondage but all those in slavery are not slaves. What joy in the threat that the solid wall surrounding us is falling to rack and ruin—the whispers of measles running through the school on Monday morning, the news that the supply officer has run away with the mess fund, the rumor that the floor manager has appendicitis and won’t be downtown for two weeks! “Break it up! Tear it down!” shout the sans cullottes, and I can distinguish my voice among the others. Striped and short rations tomorrow, but for God’s sake, give us our measure of hysteria today.

458 It was not an American bar any more—he felt polite in it, and not as if he owned it. It had gone back into France.

459 Fed up with it—he wanted to deal again in the vapid, to deliver a drop of material solid out of the great gaseous world of men, and never again waste his priceless hours watching nothing and nothing with nothing.

460 she was alone at last. There was not even a ghost left now to drift with through the years. She might stretch out her arms as far as they could reach into the night without fear that they would brush friendly cloth.

461 Liking man when he’s tired.

462 The voices fainter and fainter—How is Zelda, how is Zelda—tell us—how is Zelda

463 Felt utterly forlorn and defeated and outlasted by circumstances.

464 She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.

465 She fronted the appalling truth. She could never love him, never while he lived. It was as if he had charged her to react negatively and so long as the current flowed she had no choice. Passionately she tried to think back to a few minutes before when the world had been tragic and glorious, but the moment was gone. He was alive and as she heard his feet take up the chase again the wings of her mind were already preening themselves for flight.

466 Proxy in passion.

(G) Descriptions of Girls

467 She turned her slender smile full upon Lew for a moment, and then aimed it a little aside, like a pocket torch that might dazzle him.

468 She was the dark Gunther—dark and shining and driven.

469 He had not realized that flashing fairness could last so far into the twenties.

470 Nevertheless, the bright little apples of her cheeks, the blue of the Zuyder Zee in her eyes, the braided strands of golden corn on the wide forehead, testified to the purity of her origin. She was the school beauty.

471 Her beauty was as poised and secure as a flower on a strong stem; her voice was cool and sure, with no wayward instruments in it that played on his emotions.

472 She was not more than eighteen—a dark little beauty with the fine crystal gloss over her that, in brunettes, takes the place of a blond’s bright glow.

473 Becky was nineteen, a startling little beauty, with her head set upon her figure as though it had been made separately and then placed there with the utmost precision. Her body was sturdy, athletic; her head was a bright, happy composition of curves and shadows and vivid color, with that final kinetic jolt, the element that is eventually sexual in effect, which made strangers stare at her. [Who has not had the excitement of seeing an apparent beauty from afar; then, after a moment, seeing that same face grow mobile and watching the beauty disappear moment by moment, as if a lovely statue had begun to walk with the meager joints of a paper doll?] Becky’s beauty was the opposite of mat. The facial muscles pulled her expressions into lovely smiles and frowns, disdains, gratifications and encouragements; her beauty was articulated, and expressed vividly whatever it wanted to express.

474 Anyone looking at her then, at her mouth which was simply a kiss seen very close up, at her head that was a gorgeous detail escaped from the corner of a painting, nor mere formal beauty but the beholder’s unique discovery, so that it evoked different dreams to every man, of the mother, of the nurse, of the lost childish sweetheart or whatever had formed his first conception of beauty—anyone looking at her would have conceeded her a bisque on her last remark.

475 She was a stalk of ripe corn, but bound not as cereals are but as a rare first edition, with all the binder’s art. She was lovely and expensive, and about nineteen.

476 A lovely dress, soft and gentle in cut, but in color a hard, bright, metallic powder blue.

477 An exquisite, romanticized little ballerina.

478 He imagined Kay and Arthur Busch progressing through the afternoon. Kay would cry a great deal and the situation would seem harsh and unexpected to them at first, but the tender closing of the day would draw them together. They would turn inevitably toward each other and he would slip more and more into the position of the enemy outside.

479 Her face, flushed with cold and then warmed again with the dance, was a riot of lovely, delicate pinks, like many carnations, rising in many shades from the white of her nose to the high spot of her cheeks. Her breathing was very young as she came close to him— young and eager and exciting. (used)

480 The intimacy of the car, its four walls whisking them along toward a new adventure, had drawn them together.

481 A beauty that had reached the point where it seemed to contain in itself the secret of its own growth, as if it would go on increasing forever.

482 Her body was so assertively adequate that someone remarked that she always looked as if she had nothing on underneath her dress but it was probably wrong.

483 Her ash-blond hair seemed weather-proof save for a tiny curtain of a bang that was evidently permitted, even expected to stir a little in a mild wind. She had an unmistakable aura about her person of being carefully planned. Under minute scallops that were scarcely brows her eyes etc. Her teeth were so white against the tan, her lips so red, that in combination with the blue of her eyes the effect was momentarily startling—as startling as if the lips had been green and the pupils white.

484 A few little unattached sections of her sun-warm hair blew back and trickled against the lobe of the ear closest to him, as if to indicate that she was listening.

485 A square chinned, decided girl with fleshy white arms and a white dress that reminded Basil domestically of the lacy pants that blew among the laundry in the yard.

486 He saw that she was lying, but it was a brave lie. They talked from their hearts—with the half truths and evasions peculiar to that organ, which has been famed as an instrument of precision.

487 I look like a femme fatale

488 After a certain degree of prettiness, one pretty girl is as pretty as another.

489 shimmering with unreality for the fancy-dress party

490 Popularly known as the “Death Ray.” She was an odd little beauty with a skull-like face and hair that was a natural green-gold—the hair of a bronze statue by sunset.

491 He rested a moment on the verandah—resting his eyes on a big honey suckle that cut across a low sickle moon—then as he started down the steps his abstracted glance fell upon a trailer from it sleeping in the moonlight.

492 She was the girl from foreign places; she was so asleep that you could see the dream of those places in the faint lift of her forehead. He struck the inevitable creaky strip and promptly the map of wonderland written on the surface of women’s eyebrows creased into invisibility. [used]

493 His brisk blond sidelocks scratched her cheek while a longer tenuous end of gold silk touched him in the corner of his eye

494 She wore the usual little dishpan cover.

495 She was small with a springy walk that would have been aggressive if it had been less dainty.

496 Her mouth was made of two small intersecting cherries pointing off into a bright smile.

497 What’s a girl going to do with herself on a boat—fish?

498 The girl hung around under the pink sky waiting for something to happen. There were strange little lines in the trees, strange little insects, unfamiliar night cries of strange small beasts beginning.
—Those are frogs, she thought, or no, those are grillons— what is it in English?—those are crickets up by the pond.
—That is either a swallow or a bat, she thought; then again the difference of trees—then back to love and such practical things. And back again to the different trees and shadows, skies and noises—such as the auto horns and the barking dog up by the Philadelphia turnpike...

499 Her face, flowing out into the world under an amazing Bersaglierri bonnet, was epicene; as they disembarked at the hotel the sight of her provoked a curious sigh-like sound from a dense mass of women and girls who packed the side-walk for a glimpse of her, and Bill realized that her position, her achievment however transient and fortuitous was neither a little thing nor an inheritance. She was beauty for hundred afternoons, its incarnation in millions of aspiring or fading lives. It was impressive, startling and almost magnificent.
Half an hour later sitting a few feet from the judgment dias he saw a girl detach herself from a group who were approaching it in threes—it was a girl in a white evening dress with red gold hair and under it a face so brave and tragic that it seemed that every eye in the packed hall must be fixed and concentrated on its merest adventures, the faintest impression upon her heart.

500 Women having only one role, their own charm—all the rest is mimicry.

501 If you keep people’s blood in their heads it won’t be where it should be for making love.

502 Men got to be a mixture of the charming mannerisms of the women one has known.

503 Her air of saying “This is my opportunity of learning something, beckoned their egotism imperatively near.”

504 A frown, the shadow of a hair in breadth appeared between her eyes.

505 The little 14 year old nymph in the Vagabonds.

506 Wearing a kimono bright with big blue moons, she sat up among the pillows drawing her lips by a hand-glass.

507 He had thought of her once as a bubble and had told her about it, an iridescent soap-blown bubble with a thin delicate film over all the colors of the rainbow. He had stopped abruptly at that point but [he was conscious too of the sun panning gold from the clear brooks of her hair, of her tawny skin]—hell! He had to to stop thinking of such things. to]

508 She was eighteen with such a skin as the Italian painters of the decadence used for corner angels,] and all the wishing in the world glistening on her grey eyes.

509 [Wherever she was, became a beautiful and enchanted place to Basil, but he did not think of it that way. He thought the fascination was inherent in the locality, and long afterward a commonplace street or the mere name of a city would exude a peculiar glow, a sustained sound, that struck his soul alert with delight. In her presence he was too absorbed to notice his surroundings; so that her absence never made them empty, but, rather, sent him seeking for her through haunted rooms and gardens that he had never really seen before.]

510 The glass doors hinged like French windows, shutting them in on all sides. It was hot. Down through three more compartments he could see another couple—a girl and her brother, Minnie said—and from time to time they moved and gestured soundlessly, as unreal in these tiny human conservatories as the vase of paper flowers on the table. Basil walked up and down nervously.

511 Life burned high in them both; the steamer and its people were at a distance and in darkness.

512 What was it they said? Did you hear it? Can you remember?

513 She was a thin, a thin burning flame, colorless yet fresh. Her smile came first slowly, shy and bold, as if all the life of that little body had gathered for a moment around her mouth and the rest of her was a wisp that the least wind would blow away. She was a changeling whose lips were the only point of contact with reality.

514 Came up to him taking his hand as though she was stepping into the circle of his arm.

515 The tilted shadow of her nose on her cheek, the point of dull fire in her eyes.

516 Mae’s pale face and burning lips faded off, faded out, against the wild dark background of the war.

517 The copper green eyes, greener than the green-brown foliage around them.

518 She gave him a side smile, half of her face, like a small white cliff.

519 Flustered, Johanna fumbled for an apology. Nell jumped up and was suddenly at the window, a glitter of leaves in a quick wind, a blond glow of summer lightening. Even in her state of intimidation Johanna noticed that she seemed to bear with her, as she moved, a whole dream of women’s future; bore it from the past into the present as if it were a precious mystery she held , in the carriage of her neck and arms.

520 A girl who could send tear-stained telegrams.

521 The lady was annoyed, and so intense was her personality that it had taken only a fractional flexing of her eyes to indicate the fact. She was a dark, pretty girl with a figure that would be full-blown sooner than she wished. She was just eighteen.

522 Hallie Bushmill was young and vivid and light, with a boy’s hair and a brow that bulged just slightly, like a baby’s brow.

523 Sat a gold-and-ivory little beauty with dark eyes and a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world. (Used?)

524 He bent and kissed her braided forehead.

525 Helen Avery’s voice and the drooping of her eyes when she finished speaking, like a sort of exercise in control, fascinated him. He had felt that they both tolerated something, that each knew half of some secret about people and life, and that if they rushed toward each other there would be a romantic communion of almost unbelievable intensity. It was this element of promise and possibility that had haunted him for a fortnight and was now dying away.

526 Standing at the gate with that faint glow behind her, Dinah was herself the garden’s last outpost, its most representative flower.

527 Lola Shisbe had never wrecked a railroad in her life. But she was just sixteen and you had only to look at her to know that her destructive period was going to begin any day now.

528 He saw now, framing her face in the crook of his arm, her resemblance to Kay Phillips, or rather the genus to which they both belonged. The hard little chin, the small nose, the taut, wan cheeks, it was the way actresses made up to play the woman wronged and tubucular, a matter of structure and shadows of course, for they had fresh cheeks. Again, in Dinah the created lines were firmness—in Kay they had an aesthetic value alone.

529 Your eyes always shine as if you had fever.

530 Passing within the radius of the girl’s perfume.

531 Then for a moment they faded into the sweet darkness so deep that they were darker than the darkness, so that for awhile they were darker than the black trees—then so dark that when she tried to look up at him she could but look at the wild waves of the universe over his shoulder and say, “Yes, I guess I love you too.” (used)

532 Nymph of the harvest.

533 She was the tongue of flame that made the firelight vivid.

534 “Sometimes I’d see you in the distance, moving along like a golden chariot.” After twenty minutes of such eloquence, Alida began to feel exceedingly attractive. She was tired and rather happy, and eventually she said: “All right, you can kiss me if you want to, but it won’t mean anything. I’m just not in that mood.”

535 Long white gloves dripping from her forearms.

536 Her eyes shone at Bill with friendly interest, and then, just before the car shot away, she did something else with them—narrowed them a little and then widened them, recognizing by this sign the uniqueness of their relationship. “I see you,” it seemed to say. “You registered. Everything’s possible.”

537 Emily, who was twenty-five and carried space around with her into which he could step and be alone with their two selves.

538 She was a bundle of fur next to Caros Moros, and he saw the latter drop his arm around her till they were one mass of fur together.

539 He took them each in one arm, like a man in a musical comedy, and kissed the rouge on their cheeks.

540 Her low voice wooed him casually from some impersonal necessity of its own.

541 It was fine hearing Nora say that she never looked behind.

542 A woman’s laughter when it’s like a child—just one syllables, eager and approving, a crow and a cry of delight.

543 She took it to the rocker and settled herself to a swift seasick motion which she found soothing.

544 Her voice seemed to hesitate after consonants and then out came resonant and clear vowels—ahs and ohs and joyful ees lingering on the air.

545 Her hair was soft as silk and faintly curling. Her hair was stiff fluff, her hair was a damp, thick shiny bank. It was not this kind or that kind, it was all hair.
Her mouth was (different things about her mouth, contrary things, impossible to reconcile—and always with:) It was not this kind or that kind of mouth, it was all mouths.
Also nose, eyes, legs, etc., same ending.

546 Always a glisten of cold cream under her eyes, of wet rouge on her lips.

547 Griselda was now unnaturally calm; as a woman becomes when she feels that, in the main, she has fulfilled her intuitive role, and is passing along the problem to the man.

548 Her lovely straggled hair.

549 She felt nice and cool after a dip in the lake, felt her pink dress where it touched her, frothy as pink soda water, all fresh in the new wind. When Roger appeared, she would make him sorry for his haughtiness of the last twenty-four hours.

550 Tremendous resemblance between Bijou and Beatrice.

551 He had once loved a girl with a blight (describe) on her teeth who hid it by reaching down her upper lip when any emotion was in sight—laughter or tears—and laughing with a faint bowing of her head—and then, being absolutely sure she had not exposed her scar, laughing quite freely and exposing it. He had adopted the mannerism, and, to get on with what happened and why, he was still doing the same thing, etc.

552 Nora’s gay, brave, stimulating, “tighten up your belt, baby, let’s get going. To any Pole.” I am astonished sometimes by the fearlessness of women, the recklessness—like Nora, Zelda, Beatrice—in each case it’s partly because they are all three spoiled babies who never felt the economic struggle on their shoulders. But it’s heartening when it stays this side of recklessness. In each case I’ve had to strike a balance and become the cautious petit bourgeoise after, in each case, throwing them off their initial balance. Yet consider M…T…who was a clergyman’s daughter—and equally with the others had everything to lose and nothing to gain economically. She had the same recklessness. It’s a question of age and the times to a great extent, because, except for the sexual recklessness, Zelda was cagey about throwing in her lot with me before I was a money-maker, and I think by temperament she was the most reckless of all. She was young and in a period where any exploiter or middle­man seemed a better risk than a worker in the arts. Question unsolved. Think further back.

553 Frances Strah looks like a trinket.

554 Some impressions of the Carnival. What made everyone walk all through the train to get out; the boys smashing baggage at the station; the high snowdrifts; the girls faces in the car windows drifting ghost-like past the watchers; the yell of recognition as a last watcher found some last girl; the figures in the dark passing the frat houses on their way to the carnival. The comparative bareness of the scene where the queens were chosen. How did some of those girls get there—some must have been accidents or at least chosen by pull or the wrong girl tapped—they weren’t the 20 prettiest girls there. Some pretty girls must have ducked it.

555 A young woman came out of the elevator and wavered uneasily across the lobby.

556 Myron Selznick’s “Beautiful—she’ll lose that pudgy baby fat.”

557 Beggar’s lips that would not beg in vain

558 My cousin Corrinne is still a flapper. Fashions, names, manners, customs and morals change but for Corrine it is still 1920. This concerns her for there is no doubt that she originally patterned herself upon certain immature and unfortunate writings of mine so I have a special indulgence for Corrine as for one who has lost an arm or leg in one’s service.

559 She was a ripe grape, ready to fall for the mere shaking of a vine.

560 The sunlight dodged down to her hair thought bright red maple and bronze encorepus leaves that bent down low to say to the young men: See, we are nothing beside her cheeks, her russet hair.

561 One of those girls who straighten your necktie to show that in her lay the spirit of the eternal mother.

562 A girl who thought the whole thing was awfully overestimated.

563 She’s all tied up in knots that girl.

564 Anything added to beauty has to be paid for, that is, the qualities that pass as substitutes can be liabilities when added to beauty itself.

565 The car was gay with girls whose excited chatter filled the damp rubbery air like smoke.

566 Women are fragile that way. You do something to them at certain times and literally nothing can ever change what you’ve done.

567 Your voice with the lovely pathetic little peep at the crescendo of the stutter.

568 “IT”

569 Scotty comes up to people when she meets them as if she were going to kiss them on the mouth, or walk right thru them, looking them straight in the eye—then stops a bare foot away and says her Hello, in a very disarming understatement of a voice. This approach is her nearest to Zelda’s personality. Zelda’s was always a vast surprise.

570 She kissed him several times then in the mouth, her face getting big as it came up to him, her hands holding him by the shoulders, and still he kept his arms by his side.

571 Among the very few domestics in sight that morning was a handsome young maid sweeping the steps of the biggest house on the street. She was a large simple Mexican girl with the large, simple ambitions of the time and the locality, and she was already conscious of being a luxury—she received one hundred dollars a month in return for her personal liberty.

572 who with every instant was dancing further and further off with Caros Moros into a youthful Spanish dream.

573 at voice full of husky laugher his stomach froze

574 Josephine’s lovely face with its expression of just having led the children from a burning orphan asylum did the rest.

575 She admired him; she was used to clasping her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.

576 She wore a blue crepe-de-chine dress sprinkled with soft brown leaves that were the color of her eyes. (More than Just a House?)

577 Instead she let the familiar lift and float and flow of love close around them, pulling him back from his far-away uniqueness.

578 It was a harvest night, bright enough to read by. Josephine sat on the veranda steps listening to the tossing of sleepless birds, the rattle of a last dish in the kitchen, the sad siren of the Chicago-Milwaukee train.

579 She saw through to his profound woundedness, and something quivered inside her, died out along the curve of her mouth and in her eyes.

580 Their hearts had in some way touched across two feet of Paris sunlight.

581 Of a despairing afternoon in a little speakeasy on Forty-eighth Street in the last sad months.

582 Crackly yellow hair. (used)

583 A girl with a bright red dress and a friendly dog jumping at her under the arcs. (Are there arcs now?)

584 Her face was a contrast between herself looking over a frontier—and a silhouette, an outline seen from a point of view, something finished—white, polite, unpolished—it was a destiny, scarred a little with young wars, worried with old white faiths...
...And out of it looked eyes so green that they were like phosphorescent marbles, so green that the scarcely dry clay of the face seemed dead beside it.

585 The white glints in her eyes cracked the heavens as a diamond would crack glass, and let stream down a whiter light than he had ever seen before; it shown over a wide beautiful mouth, set and frightened.

586 Looking for a last time into her eyes, full of cool secrets.

587 Pushing s strand of indefinite hair out of her eyes.

588 They swayed suddenly and childishly together. (used?)

589 Mae Purley, without the involuntary quiver of an eyelash, fitted the young man into her current dream.

590 For some years there had been the question as to whether or not Boops was going to have a nose. There was a sort of button between her big dark eyes, eyes that were round at the bottom, half moons hinting that half a person lay undivulged—but at eleven the button was still rudimentary and so unnoticeable that of a winter her elders were often driven frantic by its purls and mutterings, its gurgles, hisses and back firings, before it occured to them to say “Blow it.”

591 He had passed the wire to her, to a white rose blooming without reason at the end of a cross-bar on the edge of space and time like a newly created tree.

592 Bright, unused beauty still plagued her in the mirror.

593 She was desperately adaptable, desperately sweet-natured.

594 Her face was heart shaped, an impression added to by honey-colored pointed-back hair which accentuated the two lovely rounds of her temples.

595 She was a key-board all resonent and gleaming.

596 He smoothed down her plain brown hair, knowing for the thousandth time that she had none of the world’s dark magic for him, and that he couldn’t live without her for six consecutive hours.

597 Her childish beauty was wistful and sad about being so rich and sixteen.

598 Much as the railroad kings of the pioneer West sent their waitress sweethearts to convents in order to prepare them for their high destinies.

599 Basil’s heart went bobbing off around the ballroom in a pink silk dress.

1740 For she has a good forgetting apparatus. That’s why she’s so popular, why she can have a heart like a hotel. If she couldn’t forget, there wouldn’t be any room.

1744 She’ll never meet a stranger.

1752 Girl in green transparent rain-coat, looking like something from the florist.

1775 Loretta Young—nigger pretty.

(H) Descriptions of Humanity (Physical)

600 They rode through those five years in an open car with the sun on their foreheads and their hair flying. They waved to people they knew but seldom stopped to ask a direction or check on the fuel, for every morning there was a gorgeous new horizon and it was blissfully certain that they would find each other there at twilight. They missed collisions by inches, wavered on the edge of precipices and skidded across tracks to the sound of the warning bell. Their friends tired of waiting for the smash and grew to accept them as sempiternal, forever new as Michael’s last idea or the gloss on Amanda’s hair. One could almost name the day when the car began to splutter and slow up; the moment found them sitting in a Sea Food place on the water-front in Washington; Michael was opening his letters, his long legs thrust way under the table to make a footstool for Amanda’s little slippers. It was only May but they were already bright brown and glowing. Their clothes were few and sort of pink in general effect like the winter cruise adver­tisements.

601 The Uni-cellular child effect—short dress.

602 Cordell Hull—Donald Duck eyes?

603 The sinister faces of Elsa Maxwell, of Gloria Vanderbilt with her frozen whine, of Foreskin Gwinne, of Mr. And Mrs. J. O’Brien (Dolly Fleishman), the fatuous William Rhinelander Stuart and the stricken boredom in the eyes of his beautiful wife.

604 His hair was grey at 35 but people said the usual things—that it made him handsomer and all that, and he never thought much about it, even though early grey hair didn’t run in his family.

605 When Jill died at last, resentful and bewildered to the end, Cass Erskine closed up his house, cancelled his contracts and took a boat around the world as far as Constantinople—no further because he and Jill had once been to Greece and the Mediterranean was heavy with memories of her. He turned back, loitered in the Pacific Isles and came home with a dread of the years before him.

606 Rosalind gave up thinking some time between the Civil war and the depression, and when I want to get anything over to her I tell it to her two dozen times till she begins to parrot it back to me as it were an idea of her own. A satisfactory arrangement but somewhat a nuisance if a decision has to be arrived at in a hurry. Scotty thinks of her as a sweet old bore—she had the impression at first that she was expected to sit in the room when Scotty’s beaux called, as if the first guns were going off at Fort Sumter.

607 Attractive people are always getting into cars in a hurry or standing still and statuesque, or out of sight.

608 Stark’s expression, as if he could hardly wait till you did something else funny—even I was ordering soup.

609 His mannerisms were all girls’ mannerisms, rather gentle considerations got from......girls, or restrained and made masculine, a trait that far from being effeminate gave him a sort of Olympic stature that in its all kindness and consideration was masculine and feminine alike.

610 Captain Saltonville—the left part of his hair flying.

611 For better or worse the awkward age has become shorter and this youth seemed to have excaped it altogether. His tone was neither flip nor bashful when he said:

612 Ernest—until we began trying to walk over each other with cleats.

613 His features were well-formed against the flat canvas of his face.

614 Dr. X’s story about the Emperor of the world.

615 Big fingers catching lisps from unintended notes. Arms crowded against his sides.

616 Max Eastman—Like all people with a swaying walk he seemed to have some secret.

617 Romanticism is really a childish throwback horror of being alone at the top—which is the real horror: Vide: Zelda’s necessity of creating a straw man of me.

618 Photographed through gauze.

619 Pretty girl with dandruff in Rome.

620 A long humorous pimply chin.

621 A panama hat, under which burned fierce, undefeated Southern eyes.

622 His heart made a dizzy tour of his chest.

623 Amusing of K. Littlefield to call up Zelda about Lydig and Widener.

624 The gleam of patent Argentine hair.

625 A lady whose lips in continual process of masking buck teeth, gave her a deceptively pleasant expression.

626 He was a tall, even a high young man.

627 His old clothes with their faint smell of old clothes.

628 The boy’s defence of his mother’s innocence in the Lausanne Palace Bar. His mother sleeping with the son of the Consul.

629 Single way of imitating, distend nostrils, wave his head from side to side and talk through his nose.

630 Francis’ excitability, nerves, eyes against calm atmosphere.

631 They went to sleep easily on other people’s pain.

632 The air seemed to have distributed the applejack to all the rusty and unused corners of his body.

633 His long, lanky body, his little lost soul in the universe, sat there on the bathroom window seat.

634 The young man with a sub-Cromagnon visage.

635 Notes on Accident Room.
Afternoon—Rolling table with splints, gauze bandages, rotten
Tiled floor—wall halfway
Tubes nitrous oxide (gas)
Deaf man—humble. Man with broken arm. Whether I took my coat off or not. Coat like intruding. Fireman’s child (make it wife) take wings, notices on door, smoking. Red headed conceited interne who took me other ward. Laughter of O’ O’Donovan’s nurse.
First Night—Thrice told story of the night before about the transfusion from the assailant to the victim. Why it was necessary. Crowding medical student. Barber. Barrel of fish. Souture with flap, the ordinary needle and black thin gut. The two lady dactors. “Externes” Blonde nurse. Bad cut of uniforms. Injections, pink disinfectant, needle and tweezers to draw it through, the flap. Negresses with gonorrhea probably. Zinder’s wife. Barber’s pretentiousness—wonderful. Oyster barrel from biggest sea food dealer in X. Can I work? Wiggles fingers. Straps on chair. Orderly and board washed; his morality. Big legs of doctoresses, petit bourgeousie manners of Zinder. Negroes by first name even by northerners. Discussion about dyes. Difference and relation between lady doctors one already the prom girl, her coat.
Second Night—Jamaica negro. His name. Writing it. Two wounds, one found. Drunk named Katy or Casey ( damn good name he says; hesitation saying it) Medical students in evidence. Princeton spies, Trimbles schedule (relatives, diet, time—other doctors’ rounds) Blood transference—won’t you have a chair? Not a wrinkle in the colored woman’s face—nor a flicker—her disease. How it sounded bad faucet, looked—wine sloshed around looking for vein, lost pump, elevators, close both doors, upstairs in biology laboratory. Previous memories “never mind how much” and “it’ll do you good” and joking while they do it and change of tone as if patient wouldn’t understand “Awful trouble getting this blood.” Little boy, fanning wet cast. Dirty feet. Miss Brady—her psychology. Miss Brady knowing everything. The stitches through the eyebrows, Niagara Falls, North Falls, Miss Brady kidding. The student who got fresh. The policeman. The sick negro kid with 103 degrees. The father with “six head of children” and the son with the dislocated arm that would have to be operated on.
He had other commission from outside. One of the nurses in the accident room, an abandoned movie fan, wanted to know if she was really going to marry a certain star. It was in all the magazines— all Bill had to ask her was yes or no.

636 She did not plan; she merely let herself go, and the overwhelming life in her did the rest. It is only when youth is gone and experience has given us a sort of cheap courage that most of us realize how simple such things are. (used in Tender?)

637 The oily drug store sweat that glistens on battle and struggle in films.

638 He swelled out the muscles of his forehead but the perfect muscles of his legs and arms rested always quiescent, tranquil.

639 Her dress wrapped around her like a wrinkled towel unnecessarily exposing her bottom.

640 Always seems to be one deaf person in every room I’m in now.

641 Receiving line—girls pirouette, men shifting from one foot to the other. Very gracious man shaking hands like crawl.

642 The continual “don’t remember” of amateur singers is annoying.

643 Small black eyes buttoned to her face.

644 Herman Manowitz, bound as Gulliver, vomiting on treadmill, 1932 etc.

645 Gus first learned to laugh not because he had any sense of humor but because he had learned it was fun to laugh—think of other types in society—as a girl learns it’s pretty.

646 Deep belly laughs of H.L.M.

647 He was not the frock-coated and impressive type of millionaire which has become so frequent since the war. He was rather the 1910 model—a sort of cross between Henry VIII and “our Mr. Jones will be in Minneapolis on Friday.”

648 He was one of those unfortunate people who are always constrained to atone for their initial aggressiveness by presently yielding a more important point.

649 A white handsome face aghast .. imprisoned eyes that had been left out and stepped on and a mouth at the outrage.

650 She held her teeth in the front of her mouth as if on the point of spitting them delicately out.

651 Harlot in glasses

652 South—aviation caps, southern journalism, men’s faces

653 glass fowl eyes

654 A hand-serrated blue vein climbing the ridges of the knuckles and continuing in small tributaries along the fingers.

655 Girls pushed by their arm in movies.

656 Thornton Wilder glasses in the rosy light

657 He was dressed in a tight and dusty readymade suit which evidently expected to take flight at a moment’s notice for it was secured to his body by a line of six preposterous buttons.
There were supernumerary buttons upon the coat-sleeves also and Amanthis could not resist a glance to determine whether or not more buttons ran up the side of his trouser leg.

658 rather like a beach comber who had wandered accidentally out of a movie of the South Seas.

659 The good looking, pimply young man with eyes of a bright marbly blue who was asleep on a dunnage bag a few feet away was her husband—

660 Fat women at vaudeville or the movies repeating the stale wisecracks aloud and roaring at them.

661 On a aime le haliene mauvais quand elle etait malude parcequ’il a ete a lui.

662 The steam heat brings out Aquilla’s bouquet.

663 Jews lose clarity. They get to look like old melted candles, as if their bodies were preparing to waddle. Irish get slovenly and dirty. Anglo Saxons get frayed and worn.

664 There was no hint of dissipation in his long warm cheeks.

665 She carried a sceptre and wore a crown made by the local costumer, but due to the cold air the crown had undergone a peculiar chemical change and faded to an inconspicuous roan.

666 Those terrible sinister figures of Edison, of Ford and Firestone—in the rotogravures.

667 Round sweet smiling mouth like the edge of a great pie plate.

668 She took an alarming photograph in which she looked rather like a marmoset.

669 The bulbs, save for two, were dimmed to a pale glow; the faces of the passengers as they composed themselves for slumber were almost universally yellow tired.

670 He saw that they made a design, the faces profile upon profile, the heads blond and dark, turning toward Mr. Schofield, the erect yet vaguely lounging bodies, never tense but ever ready under the flannels and the soft angora wool sweaters, the hands placed on other shoulders, as if to bring each one into the solid freemasonry of the group. Then suddenly, as though a group of models posing for a sculptor were being dismissed, the composition broke and they all moved toward the door.

671 His restless body, which never spared itself in sport or danger, was destined to give him one last proud gallop at the end.

672 He had leaned upon its glacial bosom like a trusting child, feeling a queer sort of delight in the diamonds that cut hard into his cheek. He had carried his essential boyishness of attitude into a milieu somewhat less stable than gangdom and infinitely less conscientious about taking care of its own.

673 Aquilla’s brother—a colored boy who had some time ago replaced a far-wandering houseman, but had never quite acquired a name of his own in the household.

674 A tall, round-shouldered young man with a beaked nose and soft brown eyes in a sensitive face.

675 Her buck teeth always made her look mildly, shyly pleasant.

676 Then, much as a postwar young man might consult the George Washington Condensed Business Course, he sat at his desk and slowly began to turn the pages of Bound to Rise.

677 So poor they could never even name their children after themselves but always after some rich current patron.

678 The chin wabbling like a made-over chin, in which the paraffin had run—it was a face that both expressed and inspired disgust.

679 Men mouthed cigars grotesquely.

680 A handsome girl with a dirty neck and furtive eyes.

681 As an incorrigible masterbater he was usually in a state of disgust with life. It came through however, etc.

682 For the first time a dim appreciation of the problems which Dr. Hines was called upon to face brought a dim, sympathetic sweat to his temples.

683 She reminds me of a record with a blank on the other side.

684 The ones who could probably drive looked as if they couldn’t type; the ones who looked as if they could type looked also as if they couldn’t drive with any safety— and the overwhelming majority of both these classes looked as though that even if they liked children, the child might not respond.

685 “The German Prince is the horse-faced man with white eyes. This one—” He took a passenger list from his pocket, “—is either Mr. George Ives, Mr. Jubal Early Robbins and valet, or Mr. Joseph Widdle with Mrs. Widdle and six children.”

686 A young man with one of those fresh red complexions ribbed with white streaks, as though he had been slapped on a cold day, did not appear to be

687 Family like the last candies left in dish

688 She was so thin that she was no longer a girl, scarcely a human being—so she had to be treated like a grand dame

689 His face over his collar was like a Columbia salmon that had flopped halfway out of a can.

690 A thin young man walking in a blue coat that was like a pipe

691 Run like an old athlete

692 She reminds me of a turned dress by Molyneux

693 They look like brother and sister, don’t they, except that her hair is yellow with a little red in it and his is yellow with a little green in it

694 He sat so low in the car that his bullet head was like a machine gun between the propellers of a plane.

1747 That wiley old Kiss-puss, Mr So-and-so.

1772 A woman who smelled of gooseflesh.

(I) Ideas


People Born in -   Childhood Youth Y.M
1840 Cleveland 40s 50s 60s
1850 Father 50s 60s 70s
1860 Wilson & Roosevelt 60s 70s 80s
1870 Coolidge & Harding 70s 80s 90s
1880 (Mencken) 80s 90s 00s
1890 Max P. 90s 00s teens
65 10 in 75 20 in 85 30 in 95
70 ” “ 80 ” “ 90 “ “ 00
75 ” “ 85 ” “ 95 ” “ 05
80 ” “ 90 “ “ 00 “ “ 10
85 ” “ 95 ” “ 05 ” “ 15

696 Play in which revolutionist in big scene “Kill me,” etc. displays all bourgeoise talents hiterto emphasized, paralyzes them with his superiority and then shoots them.

697 Lois and the bear hiding in the Yellowstone.

698 A person perfectly happy succumbing to the current excitement and looking for trouble. Each time he or she is rescued except the last. Begin with her attempt to achieve real point with her husband—end with her losing it because of this superimposed excitement hunting. One scene where she’s pathetic Zelda-Gimma natural—another where you want to wring her neck for ignorant selfishness.

699 For Play
Personal charm.
Elsa Maxwell.
Pasts—great maturity of characters.
Children—their sex and incomprehension of others.
Serious work and worker involved. No more patience with idlers unless about them.

700 Helpmate—Man running for congress gets hurt in line of other duty and while he’s unconscious his wife, on bad advice, plans to run in his stead. She makes a fool of herself. He saves her face.

701 Family breaks up. It leaves mark on three children, two of whom ruin themselves keeping a family together and a third who doesn’t.

702 A young woman bill collector undertakes to collect a ruined man’s debts. They prove to be moral as well as financial.

703 Sam Ordway running away from it all and finding that new menage is just the same.

704 Man wants to see Bermuda. Goes there and is sick the whole time and sees it only as he leaves.

705 Widely separated family inherit a house and have to live there together.

706 Fairy who fell for wax dummy

707 Three people caught in triangle by desperation. Can’t resolve it geographically, so it is chrystallized and they have to go on indefinitely living that way.

708 Evelyn’s tragedy: Vagabonds and Debut

709 Plot—if I were rich. He became such Dream (not told) starts with who he wouldn’t help, unsympathetic. Goes through schemes Princeton, etc. People that he wouldn’t help become more and more sympathetic in bad place. Other schemes fail. Wakes up disillusioned. Would now help—those people

710 Early Contacts —When I was young I had the opportunity of meeting a very few great men anonymously. They were all in varying degrees unconscious of the fact that they were meeting one of the—but no, let that pass it has no place in a perfectly serious piece which is to describe the influence of big people on a once pure and sensitive— plasm.

711 Caruso
A. D. Hurt (Alger boy)
W. J. Bryan
Hobey Baker
Stuart Hienzeman
Taft (?)
Duc de Richlieu and Lord Aberdeen
Freddy McLaughlin

712 Andrew Fulton, a facile character who can do anything is married to girl who can’t express herself. She has a growing jealousy of his talents. The night of her musical show for the Junior League comes and is a great failure. He takes hold and saves the pieces and can’t understand why she hates him for it. She has interested a dealer secretly in her pictures (or designs or sculptures) and plans to make independent living. But the dealer has only been sold on one specimen. When he sees the rest he shakes his head. Andrew in a few minutes turned out something in putty and the dealer perks up and says “That’s what we want.” She is furious.

713 A Funeral—His own ashes kept blowing in his eyes. Everything was over by six and nothing remained but a small man to mark the spot. There were no flowers requested or proferred. The corpse stirred faintly during the evening but otherwise the scene was one of utter quietude

714 Story about man trying to live down his crazy past and encountering it everywhere.

715 Ballet Story —Baseball-Lifar

716 Movie talk-back idea

717 A tree finding water pierces roof and solves a mystery

718 Father teaches son to gamble on fixed machine; later the son unconsciously loses his girl on it.

719 A criminal confesses his crime methods to a reformer, who uses them that same night.

720 Girl and giraffe

721 Marionettes during dinner party meeting and kissing

722 Play opens with man run over

723 Play of gangster—balloons

724 Play about a whole lot of old people—terrible things happen to them and they don’t really care.

725 Dolly Wilde

726 Flower shop, Bishop, Malmaison, Constantine, clinics, black men, nurses

727 Caulkins or Eduardo story

728 Snubs—Gen. Mannsul, Telulah phone, Hotel O’Con­nor, Ada Farewell, Toulman party, Barrymore, Tal­madge, and M. Davies. Emily Davies, Tommy H. meeting and bottle, Frank Ritz and Derby, Univ. Chicago, Vallambrosa and yacht, Condon, Gerald in Paris, Ernest apartment.

729 The Tyrant Who Had To Let His Family Have Their Way For One Day.

730 Idea of accidental death of wife husband is tired of. Makes a hero of her after.

731 For Sketch—Memories of the war
How I took the brass band to etc.

732 Story: A man who wanted an elephant, or some such one of the wisest of beasts who could not talk. Then began to try to teach him to talk.

733 The Dancer Who Found She Could Fly

734 Words

735 Boobs Bones Mistaken for John The Baptist

736 There was once a moving picture magnate who was ship-wrecked on a desert island with nothing but two dozen cans of film. (Herbert Howe)

737 Angered by a hundred rejection slips he wrote an extroadinarily good story and sold it privately to twenty different magazines. Within a single fortnight it was thrust twenty times upon the public. The headstone was contributed by the Author’s League.

738 Idea—like in The Gallows Wait (unsuccessful in Fortitude) of a man taking girl for granted and coming back upon girl changed. Unable to understand at first. Examine the situation. In light of previous pop-into-bed spirit.

739 Short Story—man’s admission to himself that he’s no longer in love.

740 Somebody buying an old State car. (suggested by the car having belonged to a president)

741 The man who killed the idea tanks in England—his after life.

742 Play—The Office—an orgy after hours during the boom.

743 Gerald’s story of Clews.

744 Two things. Two parties at Ellerslie Smith and Lois.

745 Unusual death—man pierced by his own belt buckle.

746 Two middle-aged well dressed men meet on bridge where each intends suicide. They exchange stories. One has succeeded too late after terrible struggles, loss of girls etc. The other begins with great dreams, hint frustration, etc. But suprise end is, “No, I got it.”

747 A bat chase. Some desperate young people apply for jobs at Camp, knowing nothing about wood lore but pretending, each one.

748 Man who gives up just before his chance comes—but happy end and girl.

749 Bijou as a girl in Athens meeting German legacy people in secret. Representing her mother.

750 Seven instead of ten (crank’s idea)

751 Idea of husband who had on convention badge and lover on tram who pretends he doesn’t know husband and convinces indirectly of innocence. When he’s gone husband remembers badge.

752 Mrs. William Mitchell robbed.

753 Jesse or Shep, the bootlegger was deaf. W.C.T.U. preaching in St. Petersburg. $67,000 in three months during boom rum running. Girls on the street.

754 Phillip Marshall Brown on train about Buchmanism.

755 Marberry’s story about catcher who threw sweet potatoes.

756 Negro accused of chicken stealing makes up tragic and sympathetic defense—then pockets chickens and goes home.

757 Day with a busy man. Combine the day of Ernest’s pictures, the man of genius episode,

758 To make a study of Japanese humility—with myself as Japanese. Idea of height etc. Sharp differentiation from Jewish humility.

759 Story: Photographer looking for a picture surprised on a man’s face Crook Gambler looking for truth. Man being the one who gained the Sweepstakes. Both have to know the truth and suspect each other.

760 Driving over the rooftops on a bet.

761 Revenge plan: Man hates to vacate apartment. Gets notice must pull down blind while undressing. Plan made, he writes back snootily and at last moment fixes shade so it won’t lower so new tenant will be catch it.

762 Shoes used as man talking to woman. Or in musical comedy cartoon.

763 Story idea: Great man dies in sleep under unusual circumstances. Unusual tribute paid to him—this as main background. (men, women, children, niggers, old men, old women. Pick some vignettes) Story told thru eyes of daughter and beau retelling their affair. She is about 25 and has been her father’s secretary. Perhaps is sick and couldn’t be told. Look out for Browning story or Hardy.

764 Play founded on Highlands:

Scene: A drug store. A woman crying.
Scene: A country club. Lover in the distance.
Scene: A hotel—3 in the afternoon. Rain.
Scene: A drug store.
Scene: A hotel room. Parting.
Scene: A hotel room showing all involved.
Scene: A drug store.
Scene: The wreck afterwards.
Scene: The drug store.

765 The going to the Riviera. The 35,000 a year. The table at Villa Marie. The attempt at adjusting swimming time. The aviation field. The garden in the morning. The Seldes. Night in St. Maxime. Feeling of proxy in passion strange encouragement. Costume—shaved legs. Invitation from the (Humersteins). Pictures of the picnic. The trip to Avignon. Down the street. The Rumanian army. He was sorry, knowing how she would pay. Bunny Burgess episode.

766 About being high up to insure direction.

767 A famous writer fakes his own death but things make him come back.
Or else he can’t.

768 G. men as Samurai class.

769 Life and death of love affairs.

770 Magician: 97 out of 100 things being the same. Says characteristic, really characteristic only of unusualness during honeynoon.

771 Josephine in War
Piggy Back Voyage
Candy Town
The Littlefields
Ball Player Possessed
The Casting Room
Revenge by making a person a dope fiend.
Siren System
The Carmagnole
Hog call
Zelda’s “not Judas.”
Jess old nigger prototype of master
Handshaking, and Pauline’s comment and mine.
Pigs and acorns
His good manners
Davenport moon-making
Tenant who sent his son through Sarycuse
The “Settlement.”
Calling cattle from one range to another

772 Old Ida finds bills and thinks they’re assets, presents and is sued and makes great reputation in her neighborhood.

773 Girl whose ear is so sensitive she can hear radio. Man gets her out of insane asylum to use her.

774 Boredom is not an end product, is comparatively rather an early stage in life and art. You’ve got to go by or past or through boredom as through a filter before the clear product emerges.

775 A man hates to be a prince, goes to Hollywood and has to play nothing but Princes. Or a general—the same.

776 He’s got ’em on his arms (Gerald’s Indian.)

777 Jackie Merkle, the mind-reader.

778 Book: It might have been me. My old idea of half truth half lie, including all notes and everything. Shoot the works.

779 I went on one of those Armistice Day bats and the girl I was with drove my car into a hotel lobby and knocked down a major. He really wasn’t hurt but he was shocked and they put me in Leavenworth to see whether he’d die or not. Only a couple of months—the girl’s father was a big man in Kansas and they acted very well about it.

780 A boy who always says about himself “I ain’t got no ker-r-ricketer, I ain’t got no self respect.” He has no confidence. Finally gets it.

781 Famous Drunks of History

782 The [thermometer] [therpapeter] and the man with his head under his arm.

783 Break up of family and mark on children

784 Scribner & Transon.

785 Vagabonds.

786 Machine gun scandal in Balkans.

787 Shooting at the Moon (play idea).

788 Virginia Graham.

789 Boat to Norfolk.

790 Begin with Connie Bennett being nice to Converse who is down and out, nicer and nicer, then jilting him.
Exact reverse of what happened to her.

791 Esquire idea about Othello’s speech.

792 Hand car in story. (Something about Carter Brown)

793 The gypsies at Hopkins.

794 “At Pauline’s”
Pure Gold,
Holy rollers, childrens’ faces, voice of preacher
Getting Sherry, Burnsville.
Fitzgeralds vs. Brownells.
Rivierra House
Your property
Zelda’s eyes
Grandfather apostles beard

795 Astonishing story of Kelly; American College in Rome to Harry’s bar and whore-house.

796 Ghost of Vercingetorix crazy man.

797 ComparisonsEurope and America— for New Yorker article. Englishman who can’t get passport.

Stockholm St. Paul and Minneapolis (Twin Cities)
London & Paris (their suburbs) New York and Washington (Long Island)
Moscow Chicago
Geneva, Munich Boston
Manchester Pittsburgh
Lyons Detroit, Los Angeles
Berlin Philadelphia
Marseilles New Orleans, San Francisco
Milan Baltimore, Cleveland
Bordeaux St. Louis

Towns and Resorts

Asheville, N.C. Tryon. Lake Placid
Oxford Princeton
Hiedelburg Univ. Virginia, Leland Stanford
French Riviera Palm Beach, Miama (Florida)
Italian “ Coronado, Santa Barbara (Calif.)
Monte Carlo Aga Caliente
Hyeres, France St. Petersburg, Fla.
St. Moritz Western Place
Aix Les Bains and Vichey Hot Springs, Va. and White Sulphur
Interlaken Lake Champlain
Deauville and Trouville The Main Coast (Kennebunkport & the 1000 Islands
Biarritz Newport R. I.
Avignon, Aix-en-Provence Charleston and Mobile
Valence (Provence) Montgomery
Brighton Atlantic City

798 Story—What becomes of old whores

799 Man has perfectly good case of hate and revenge against other—his liver (fact prepared for) falls out and it’s all changed yet he’s committed to idea—Reverse of suicide story. Or—he has to stop drinking to beat him up and no longer wants to beat him up.

800 The morning young Jackson came over about Ring on telephone

801 Play about boys from Newman

802 Play about wife and Prince Droit de Seigneur

803 Father and Polonius
Something that began from Greenland’s etc.
Whittier’s Barbara Fritchie with the words traitor and shame inked out and replaced by substitutes in the margin, and sections of Hamlet. Principly
Lend not etc.
Well, this brings up—“your father” (loan to that man)
Morgan affair. Smith parallel
My principles of loan
English cadging
Loaning in the morning
Father telling me about man who went to prison for telling lie (Shuttleworth)

804 The celebrity

805 John Jackson tries to get son to stop drinking

806 Man and crime. Through his eyes the guilty
Begin in mediores. Perhaps golf
Two ex-poor girls married to rich men try to return to former lives

807 Contemplating suicide a man does all he wants to do. Circumstances prevent and he lives in terror. But it was all good for him.

808 Basil of Bar Twenty or another

809 Josephine’s marriage or rather in Camp

810 Foley Family

811 Woman envies another for meeting Prince of Wales

812 Masseur blinded in war—Goucher wife, Baby seen through her eyes.

813 Could you have believed in 1929
That Kreuger —and Insull
That Colonel Lindbergh
That Princeton
That Hoover
That a Mob
That the Japanese
That U. S. Steel
That Spain
That the Hohenzollerns

814 Psychological movie with Rex Inghram.

815 For Esquire: Jealous husband meets wife’s lover on train. The bluff that convinces all, including the reader that the wife has “boasted.”

816 Scottie’s houseparty

817 The old “Smile for Sylvo” “Canary for two” “Dinner at Eight” theme, this time with a person ignorant of imminent and tragic parting of two lovers following them through what seems a perfect day in New York.

818 On Becoming a Bore

819 Bad parties we’ve given

820 Unattractive things girls do.

821 The Barnyard boys

822 Play—Two men alternately bored with city and country share country house.

823 For New Yorker “Getting Out.” Quiet couple go to Scarface.

824 Save the Indo-Chinese soldiers. Remember they don’t laugh.

825 Eye in back of head

826 The piano-movers. Man in one act analogistic play in­structs four waiting piano movers in the higher conception. When the piano arrives they are unable to use it.

827 The Fellows yacht scandal

828 Easy Fables for Business Men

829 Fairy play laid in 1940. The pioneer.

830 The walking seven times around the deck after the most terrible stuff. Different line for each seven times. In novel with a new woman in Section II.
Why    Explanation of each of their lives like in advertising article

831 Title for Communist Article. “The Burning of the Book” from Chinese History.

832 Story of Fred Murphy

833 “Time Lapse”
(1) Man, girl, friend. Former thinks may happen but won’t—it is happening.
(2) Later—thinks it is now. Has happened and is over.

834 The Grotesque Stories

The Horror (St. Sulpice)
The Devil (A day of my Life)
Tiggy’s Dress Suit
Dr. Fay and the three colleges

Escape and so we have the Escape Autobiography
Youth, Rich Ancestry
War (Escape from Germany capture Kaiser) and Revolution
Money making. Bull market
Flying Pacific
Marriages. Giving up Mary, Gretta, etc.
Civil murder and Dot King Case
Breaking up gangs
Writing success. Nom de Plumes
To the South Seas and back
Charming retreat at etc.
Rescues at sea, fire.
All the things I’d like to have done. And you better hurry up with the check for this or I won’t be able to pay my week’s hotel bill.

836 The great Morons of the world (their Ages)

837 New Masses. Father Baron and the nun (for an actor)

838 The Pardners

839 That September 1924, I knew something had happened that could never be repaired.

840 Clarence Brown’s stories

841 Girl married a dissipated man and keeps him in healthy seclusion. She meanwhile grows restless and raises hell on the side.

842 The Party Dress (Hergy)

843 My idea about depth in three dimension pictures about submarines.

844 Hollywood Doctor

845 This is the first of six original stories written for the Screen. They will not be offered to magazines. This is not because, in any sense, they are inferior products but because the magazines expect from this author descriptive and “mental” values rather than dramatic values. Also the lengths.

846 Trinidad: The Redlegs are the rear guard of Monmouth’s army.

847 Story about 1st flight—man can’t marry dumb girl in last flight because of eugenics. Fixes test to prove value of beauty.

848 “—I hadn’t been within miles of the lines and I was very bored and had nothing to write home. I wrote my mother that I’d just saved the lives of Pershing and Foch—that a bomb had fallen on them and I’d picked it up and thrown it away. And what did mother do but telephone the news about her brave boy to every paper in Philadelphia.”

1721 Syndicate idea
Erroneous news paragraph contributed by Miss Inform­ation.

1724 Novel Index
For Post
My Successful Year.

It is impossible to tell this story without gloating. If I attempted to tell it with the exquisite modesty, the taste of Joseph Conrad, it would be a falsification, for this story is bumptious and gluttinous—call it crude, coarse, and be done with it.

1735 Idea of play in which dolls grow older.
I Dolls new
II Dolls crisis
III Dolls older than humans.

1741 Story of Leland Hayward

1742 Story of Marion Davies

1743 For story contrast, the Magazine types.

1750 A story—
The arrival at the chateau. (Rich family arriving. Poor family in contrast.) Suggested by Gt. Amer. Fortunes.

1756 Opera plot: A youth, unjustly imprisoned and embittered, joins big mobster. Idealistically disillusioned, he is redeemed.

1761 Story—A hole or bag in which someone finds all the things he’s ever lost.

1770 The Woman’s Times.

1771 The suit beginning in 1000 about land in Naples given away by mistake for the millenium.

1778 Man playing harp as piano.

1794 Russell Woolcott’s turtle that grew and diminished


Ages 1700—1967
Monarchs Louis XIV
Philos. Voltaire
Nations Washington
Tyrants Napoleon
Peace Victoria
Science Darwin
Empire Wilson
Revolution Lenin

1803 Story idea about prison. Girl hates town. Meets convict released. Helps him and when he goes back, she does, too.

(J) Jingles and Songs

Lolling down on the edge of time
Where the flower months fade as the days move over,
Days that are long like lazy rhyme,
Nights that are pale with the moon and the clover,
Summer there is a dream of summer
Rich with dusks for a lover’s food—
Who is the harlequin, who is the mummer,
You or time or the multitude?

Still does your hair’s gold light the ground
And dazzle the blind ’till their old ghosts rise;
Then, all you cared to find being found,
Are you yet kind to their hungry eyes?
Part of a song, a remembered glory—
Say there’s one rose that lives and might
Whisper the fragments of our story:
Kisses, a lazy street—and night.

850 FOR A LONG ILLNESS by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I. Where did we store the summer of our love
Come here and help me find it
Search as I may there is no trove
Only a dusty last year’s calendar.
Without your breath in my ear
Your light in my eye to blind it
I cannot see in the dark.
Oh tender
Was your touch in Spring, your barefoot voice—
In August we should find graver music and rejoice.
II. A long Provence of time we saw
For the end—to march together
Through the white dust.
The wines are raw
Still that we will drink
In the groves by the old walls in the old weather.
Two who were hurt in the first dawn
Of battle; first to be whole again (let’s think)
If the wars grow faint, sweep over...
Come, we will rest in the shade of the Invalides, the lawn
Where there is luck only in three leaf clover.

851 I don’t need a bit assistance
That’s just—just music in the distance

852 Little by little
Little by little
That’s the way to do things every day
Little by little
That’s the way to whittle your troubles away

853 If Hoover came out for the N. R. A.
And babies were born with an extra thumb
My daughter would eyebrow me and say
It was cute, pathetic, juicy or dumb.

If they found a dinosaur in the park
If Einstein failed on an easy sum
I’d hear from my daughter the bored remark
It was cute, pathetic, juicy or dumb.

Yours is received—and I discreetly burn it.
I could hardly do less with such advice than to return it.
Your words are bold enough, may I be bolder?
Try out the plan for me—go lay your shoulder
On the mellow breast of Mr. Holt (don’t knock the feller)
Or Mr. Rickey—or even Mr. Rockefeller.
They’re kind, they’re wise (or think they are) they’re through with fighting.

Infinitely fitter for love—if less exciting!
They’ll feel romance for both, and in addition
There’ll be less worry—there’s less competition
So cease such vaporings. The girls you mention
Have in their time been not without attention
But if their very mattresses were wet
With tears, they could not now play Juliet.

855 Listen to the hoop la
That’s for Betty Boop—ah

856 A god intoxicated fly
Got in a room with men
He heard them talk with flashing eye
Of deeds of fist and pen
He heard them laugh, he heard them lie
He watched them leave and then
He flew to where each sticky hand
Had left upon a chair
The sort of drink.

In the fall of sixteen
In the cool of the afternoon
I saw Helena
Under a white moon
I heard Helena
In a haunted doze
Say: “I know a gay place
Nobody knows.”

Her voice promised
She’d live with me there
She’d bring everything
I needn’t care
Patches to mend my clothes
When they were torn.
Sunshine from Maryland
Where I was born.

My kind of weather
As wild as wild
And a funny book
I wanted as a child
Sugar and you know,
Reason and Rhyme
And water like water
I had one time.

There’d be an orchestra
Bingo! Bango!
Playing for us
To dance the tango
And people would clap
When we arose
At her sweet face
And my new clothes.

But more than all this
Was the promise she made
That nothing, nothing,
Ever would fade
Nothing would fade
Winter or fall
Nothing would fade,
Practically nothing at all.
Helena went off
And married another,
She may be dead
Or some man’s mother
I have no grief left
But I’d like to know
If she took him
Where she promised we’d go.

——F. Scott Fitzgerald

All my ways she wove of light,
Wove them all alive,
Made them warm and beauty bright—
So the trembling, ambient air
Clothes the golden waters where
The pearl fishers dive.

When she wept and begged a kiss
Very close I’d hold her,
And I know so well in this
Fine fierce joy of memory
She was very young like me
Though half an aeon older.

Once she kissed me very long,
Tiptoed out the door,
Left me, took her light along,
Faded as a music fades—
Then I saw the changing shades,
Color blind no more.

Clear in the morning I can see them sometimes:
—Men, gods and ghosts, slim girls and graces—
Then the light grows, noon burns, and soon there come times
When I see but the pale and ravaged places
Their glory long ago adorned—And seeing
My whole soul falters as an invalid
Too often cheered. Did something in their being
Of worth go from them when my ideal did?

Men, gods and ghosts, cast down by that young damning,
You have no answer; I but heard you say
“Why, we were weak. We failed a bit in shamming.”
—So I am free! Will freedom always weigh
So much hung around my heart? For your defection
Break! You who had me in your keeping, break! Fall!
From that great height to this great imperfection!,
Yet I must weep—Yet, can I hate you all?

He loved me too much; I could not love him!
Opened my eyes so wide I did not see;
For all I left unsaid I could not move him;
He did not love himself enough for me.
He dropped the helm, he let his ship, unruddered,
Ride the calm waters of my youth and sin—
His was the blameless past, and still I shuddered
Seeing the dark spot where his lips had been.
“How you must loathe me, child of youth and brightness!
All my—well, sentiment. Ah—I’m a bore—”
…I smile and lie, and pray for more politeness,
And shiver when his curled hair nears once more.
Trembling before the fire I gasp and rise,
Yawn twice and hint of sleep, profess to nod,
—An image flashes, flares to life and dies;
A devil screaming in the arms of God.
He’d gone too far, lost all his pride somewhere
On my small heart—And all that I could see
Was his stark soul that labored, grovelled there:
I loathed him for that soul—that love of me.

The gorgeous Vatican was steeped, in night,
The organs trembled on my heart no more,
But with a blend of colors on my sight
I loitered through a somber corridor;
When suddenly I heard behind a screen
The faintest whisper as from one in prayer;
I glanced about, then passed, for I had seen
A hushed, dim-lighted room—and two were there.
A ragged friar, half in a dream’s embrace,
Leaned sideways, soul intent, as if to sieze
The last grey ice of sin that ached to melt
And faltered from the lips of him who knelt
A little bent old man upon his knees
With pain and sorrow in his holy face.

Death shrouds the moon and the long dark deepens,
Hastens to the city, to the great stone heaps,
Blinds all eyes and lingers on the corners,
Whispers on the corners that the last soul sleeps.
Gay grow the streets now, torched by yellow lamp-light,
March all directions with a staid, slow tread;
East West they wander, through the sodden city
Rattle on the windows like the wan-faced dead.
Ears full of throbbing a babe awakens startles,
Lends a tiny whimper to the still, dark doom;
Arms of the mother tighten round it gently
Deaf to the marching in the far flung gloom.
Old streets hoary with dead men’s footsteps,
Scarred with the coach-wheels of a gold old age;
Young streets, sand-white, fresh cemented, soulless
Virgin with the pallor of the fresh-cut page.
Black mews and alleys, stealthy eyed and tearless,
Shoes patched and coats torn, torn and dirty old;
Mire-stained and winding, poor streets and weary,
Trudge along with curses, harsh as icy cold.
White lanes and pink lanes, strung with purple roses,
Dancing from a meadow, weaving down a hill,
Beckoning the boy streets with stray smiles wanton,
Strung with purple roses that the dawn must chill.
Soon will they meet, tiptoe on the corners
Kiss behind the foliage of the leaf-filled dark.
Avenues and highroads, bridlepaths and parkways,
All must trace the pattern that the street-lamps mark.
Steps stop sharp! A clamor and a running!
Light upon the corner spills the milk of dawn.
Now the lamps are fading and a bluewinged silence
Settles like a swallow on a dew-drenched lawn.

There was a country horse, they say
Who one day came to town.
Chalked on his side (he was a bay)
Was “Send me to Carter Brown.”
So chaperoned by villagers
From friendly bin to bin
The nag arrived by easy staggers
Up at the Pine Crest Inn.
And with surprise in every pore
Twas noted by the country masses
This singular old gee-gee, wore,
Instead of blinders, Horn-rimmed glasses!
Now Carter seldom off his base is—
But this exceptionable horse
Drew him out briskly from his office
To ask (in Polish, Welsh, and Norse):
“O horse!” he cried, “What occulist
Concocted this, to thus surprise us?
Is there a watch upon your wrist?
Or other quaint and queer devices?”
“O Carter!” said the steed (and balked
At grooms, quite dumb and ineffectual
Who tried to snub him while he talked):
“Carter,” he said, “I’m intellectual.”
“I’ve had my little shot at knowledge.
My name’s not Jones or Smith or Johnson,
“But—” (and to prove he’d been to college,
He neighed a bar from “On, Wisconsin!”)
“My name is Fido,” he confessed,
“It’s true, yes, by it I’ll be bound
With that sad moniker I am blessed
Because they thought I’d be a hound.
“That is my tragedy, my cross,
That’s what still keeps my heart a’burning,
Am I a dog or just a hoss?—
(I’ve sublimated it in Learning.”)
His host had fainted. When he came
To life, he shouted with a frown:
“Why did you bring, in Heaven’s Name
Your problem here to Carter Brown?”
“Because—” the Beast replied—“they tell
You’ve heard so many horsey lies, you
’ll ne’er be told in heaven or hell
One fact on horse-flesh to surprise you.”

864 She lay supine among her pekinese
Her dress was pink; she had a lot of guests
All had been given long intelligence tests
(Square carrots ought to fit octagonal peas)
She used to dandle God upon her knees
And tell him how—and still kepp nicely humble
Take us to ride with Jesus in the rumble
Drunk as a fool on wine that had no leas
Poor Sarah—brown back hanging from her pearls
Poor us who wanted her to be the same
Never to change for she had made us stable
She was as good and bad as she was able
Change and live on, sweet metal, ours the blame
Ours is the wig forever yours the curls

It is hot tonight—my hand sticks to this paper
Listen—in the unrequited years
Wasn’t it me you looked for sometimes at the races
beaches, tables? Didn’t your odd delicacies and fears
melt away one time when we made funny faces?
at each other on a canal boat,
galley, floating palace—fifty months ago?
Didn’t we tell the whole story, sit and dote,
stare pop-eyed at each other? Didn’t we though?
Cast us as Mona Liza and Jack Horner
Will you! With neither of us supposed to care a damn?
—My version is the last sight of your head around a corner—
And the awful unsaid blankness of a telegram.
It is hot tonight but the humidity will not show in the typewriting.

We don’t want visitors, we said
They come and sit for hours and hours
They come when we have gone to bed
They are imprisoned here by showers
They come when they are low and bored
Drink from the bottle of your heart
Once it is emptied the gay horde

Shouting the Rubyiat, depart
I balked—I was at work, I cried
Appeared unshaven or not at all
Was out of gin—the cook had died
Of small pox, and more tales as fall
On boor or friend I turned the same
Dull eye, the same impatient tone—
—The ones with beauty, sense and fame
Perceived we wished to be alone
But dull folk, dreary ones and rude
Long talker, lonely soul and quack
Who hereto hadn’t dared intrude
Found us alone, swarmed to attack
Thought silence was attention; rage
An echo of their own home’s war
Glad we had ceased to “be upstage”—
—But the nice people came no more.

867 Pretty Boy Floyd
And School Boy RoweWent walking up the street.
If you want a flapper—shake her
If you want a maiden—make her
If you want a woman—take her
In a jitney heaven on a cheap gilt street etc.
(finish) It’s me
(Good Lord)
It’s me.

868 Counter Song to the “Undertaker”
Bingo Bingo
Princeton only boasts
When it roasts
Old Eli-Yale.

869 Touchdown song based on
Whoo-oo won

870 “Patty’s Pulling Parties.”

871 Song—
There’s a kind of magic near ya.

872 Colors has she in her soul
Dusky gold and green and white

So if eyes peer out to see
Rain a-slanting down the street
Washing through the colonade
Let us smile and say that she
Paints in green.
Rain a-slanting down the street
By the first lamps of the night
Overhead the willows meet
Bells from hidden places toll
(Colors has she in her soul
Dusky gold and green and white)
Hurried dots upon the day
Little figures scurry by

873 “Sticking along.” The voice so faint sometimes I could scarcely hear it.
Sticking along? For what, we had forgotten years ago.
Sometimes there was only the cold frim comfort of not being near it,

874 First a hug and tease and a something on my knees
And then everything
And that’s everything

875 Hooray
For the boys that say Hurray

876 I hate their guts
The lowsy mutts

877 If you have a little Jew
Beat him (when he sneezes)

878 You’ll never know
Spring in my heart

879 Bath tub torch song

880 Oh where are the boys of the boom-boom-boom
Where are the boys of the boom

881 For Song—Idea—He’s just a friend he said. But
knowing what I ( know) (do)
I’d be contented If I could be just a friend.

882 “I got a suit of silk pajamas—I’m savin’ for you.”

883 Refrain for a Poem. How to Get to So and So.
You go to X and turning there
Continue on to Berkely Square
etc. etc.
You go to X and something X
And four miles on

884 In a dear little vine covered cottage
On Forty-second Street
A butcher once did live who dealt
In steak and other meat
His son was very nervous
And his mother him did vex
And she failed to make allowance
For his matracide complex
And now in old Sing Sing
You can hear that poor lad sing.
Just a boy that killed his mother
I was always up to tricks
When she taunted me I shot her
Through her chronic appendix
I was always very nervous
And it really isn’t fair
I bumped off my mother but never no other
Will you let me die in the chair?
He was only sixteen and a fraction
A had ne’er been ail in his life
He had scarcely been fired from his high school
For raping the principal’s wife
Now he sits in the laws foulest dungeons
Instead of his families embrace
Oh how would you like it your ownself
If you stared the hot seat in the face
So write Franklin D. if you can
To send him to old Mattewan
Just a boy that killed his mother
Now he’s in a sorry fix
Since he up one day and plugged her
Through her perfect thirty-six
It was no concern of no one’s
And his trial wasn’t fair
The fact that he shot her was a family matter
Will you let him die in the chair?
Do you think that our civilization
Should punish an innocent lad
Why he said to the judge in the court room
He was aiming the gun at his dad
But the judges denied his petition
And at dawn on the 9th of July
Unless Governor Roosevelt shows kindness
Gus Schnlitski must certainly die
And the death house once again
Does ring to this refrain
Just a boy that killed his mother
With a brace of stolen colts
On July 9 they’ll fill me
With a hundred thousand volts
It was dope that made me do it
Otherwise I wouldn’t dare
’Twas ten grains of morphine that made me an orphinc
Will you let me die in the chair?

This is April again. Roller skates rain slowly down the street
Your voice far away on the phone
Once I would have jumped like a clown through a hoop—
“Then the area of infection has increased? …oh …What can I expect after all—I’ve had worse shocks.
Anyhow, I know and that’s something.” (Like hell it is, but it’s what you say to an X-ray doctor.)
Then the past whispering faint now on another phone:
“Is there any change?”
“Little or no change”
“I see”
The roller skates rain down the streets,
The black cars shine between the leaves,
Your voice far away:
“I am going with my daughter to the country. My husband left today. . . No he knows nothing.”
I have asked a lot of my emotions—one hundred and twenty stories, The price was high, right up with Kipling, because there was one little drop of something not blood, not a tear, not my seed, but me more intimately than these, in every story, it was the extra I had. Now it has gone and I am just like you now.
Once the phial was full—here is the bottle it came in.
Hold on there’s a drop left there. . . No, it was just the way the light fell
But your voice on the telephone. If I hadn’t abused words so what you said might have meant something.
But one hundred and twenty stories
April evening spreads over everything, the purple blur left by a child who has used the whole paint-box.

886 Don’t you worry I surrender
Days are long and life’s a bender
Still it’s true that
Tender is the Night

887 SONG
You have got to take a bath
Just a wee one—a beginner
Cause my mother’s here to dinner
So you’re going to take a bath
Don’t you put me off with maybe
Get your scrubbing brush for baby
We must ride through life
In the very same boat
But I never counted on a billy goat
I am used to your aroma
But to others it means—coma
You have got to take a bath
Oh I will not take a bath
You can lead me to the slaughter
But I’ll just let out the water
Oh I will not take a bath
For the soap it makes me itchy
And the whole idea is bitchy
For you-see-my-dear
When you married your lad
You married his habits so you might as well be glad
Baths are only for the dirty
Haven’t needed one since thirty
And I will not take a bath
There’s no room to swim around dear
You will end up in the pound dear
But you’ve given me your oath, love
You can take baths for us both, love
And I’m quite content to be a Billy goat
But I never counted on a Billy goat
Do you like to be so high, dear
I am aiming at the sky, dear

888 Mr. Berlin wrote a song about forgetting to remember
A song that I would never dare to borrow
For they sang it East and West from January to December
And we felt for Mr. Berlin in his sorrow
But here the situation is entirely different
If I can remember to forget your way (smile)
To forget a fingers fussing with your hair
(If I can remember to forget)

889 Mother taught me to—love things
Now you tell me to—hate things
Mother taught me to ----- things
Now you tell me to doubt things, etc.

890 Truth and—consequences
Bobby loved who—it’s a big do
Bill loved Ruth—but you mustn’t play truly
Truth and consequences

891 Everytime I blow my nose I think of you
And the mellow noise it makes
Says I’ll be true
With beers and wines
With Gertrude Steins
With all of that
I’m through
Cause every time I blow my no-o-ose

892 For the time that our man spent in pressing your suit
For the books and the towels that you took off as loot
For your general idea you were out on a toot
For my debutante daughter you threw for a loss
For the way you insulted my husband’s big boss
For the crap game you won with that singular toss
Thank you so much Mr. Porter for coming here.
For the servants to whom you did not come across
For the way that you smashed up our sweet little car
For your hoggish attacks on our nicely stocked bar
For the bed you set fire with your God damn cigar
Never ask you to a week end again

893 Keep the watch!
When-the-tread-of the many feet is still
Hold our place on the heights until
We—come—back—many thousand strong
Keep the watch
—At Princeton

894 She’s pimply, etc.
But when she gets together with the giggely girls, she’s pimply a succoream

895 Half-and-Half Girl
Half-hearted Half-a-Miss
Half-hearted measures
Are causing you to miss
Half of life’s pleasures
Half rude and half polite
Half time endeavor
Half wrong but always right
Justified ever
Half truths that make a lie
Half kept intentions
(And need one mention, Pie
Half learned declensions)
Half of a bathing suit
Half of a mitten
Half the time (when it’s cute!)
Love for a kitten
Half finished stories
Sewing—got mired in it
Literature’s glories
Gave up—got tired in it
Half of a language done
Half of a lesson
Half study-time for fun
Half work to guess on
Half of an exercise
Heavens who can know
How one can memorize
Half the piano!
Half liking half a friend
Grow warm or colder
When cross don’t half unbend
Turn the cold shoulder
Half with your duty—Aye!
Fluid like water
Seeking half beauty—my
half-and-half daughter

I may be a What-ho, a No-can-do
Even a banker, but I can love you
As well as a better man
a letter-man of fame
As well as any Mr. Whosis you can name
The little break in my voice
—or Rolls-Royce
take your choice
I may lose
You must choose
So choose
A hundred thousand in gold
and you’re sold
to the old
and I’m broke
when our days a
are gold
I’m begging
Oh, Sister, can you spare your heart?
Those wealthy goats
In racoon coats
can wolfe you away from me
But draw your latch
For an honest patch
the skin of necessity
(we’ll make it a tent, dear)
The funny patch in my pants
take a chance
ask your aunts
What’s a loss
You must toss
So toss!
A gap inside that’s for good.
You’ll be good
As you should
Touch wood!
I’m begging
Oh, Sister, can you spare your heart?

897 You’ve driven me crazy
What’ll Jung do what’ll Jung do
My yen for you makes everything hazy
What Jung do to you
How true—were the doctors who
psychked me
who liked me
Believe me they knew
but you—were
the kind of neurotic
schitzotic when
I needed you
You’ve driven me crazy
I’ll do the same to you

Where the Choo-Choo trains go
All the yellow cabs are rushing
To the seven-ten for Flushing (etc.)
(with three trains—Winchester, Long Island, New Jersey—events en route, false legs over seats, etc.)

Sway-yed and driven
by forces I don’t understand
(high) Sway-ed and driven
Got to eat out a somebody’s hand
Gotta eat
Gotta eat out a somebody’s han’
But gotta eat
Sway-ed etc.

The ground cried out to him
It clasped his middle
He knew finally
The end of the riddle.

Some things we know
About death and birth
He knew he was due to go
Down back into the earth

901 Life’s to short to
Wait for a boy like you to make up his mind.
Life’s too short to
Meddle with anyone else but you.

1739 When Zelda Sayre and I were young, the war was in the sky.

1746 To Carter + Marion
What wonder if the poet wants to rave
That the bells within the washer start to ring,
That the banners in the flagstone start to wave,
For at seven-forty-five tonight, it’s spring.
The crackers in the cracker box explode,
The very shoes I wear are get­ting tight.
Why this modest, unassuming little ode,
Is careening around the paper as I write.
I must go and pull a strip tease
in the park, But remember, dears, this most important thing.
Though I’m fined by Misseldine for being stark,
Still at seven-forty-five tonight, it’s spring.

1759 The Barber’s too slick,
The maid’s too clean.
The boy’s too quick,
The clerk’s too keen.
The music too gay,
The tunes too mad.
I’m leaving today,
And that’s too bad.
Compliments of a contented guest.

1795 From the room where Mandy lay,
And the toilet flushed like thunder
Out of China cross the way.

My name is Death. You may remember me.
We met some days ago, but you refused
The introduction, and with such snobbery
That I felt temporarily confused.
I’d thought to meet you on some great day
When you were drowsing in the oldsters’ land.
On silent feet, I’d come to where you lay,
Before you knew it, I’d have touched your hand.
But since you have the art of driving well,
You’ve quite forgot that you might meet another
Who drives as fast but clumsily as hell.
So I may see you soon. Step on it, brother!
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.
But the story of Carter’s is not on sale.
Dead men generally tell no tale.
Ye Scott ha’ not wi’ Carter bled
By road sign “Dangerous Curve Ahead”.
Gather ye Carter while ye may
From all the points of the Zodiac.
This is the tie that he wore that day,
Here is a tooth and part of his back.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
As we dropped the bits into the rumble.
We wrapped his spleen in his overcoat,
But we lost his ears in the jumble.
All the Kings horses and all the King’s men,
That are not at the Coronation,
Managed to gather up Carter again,
But couldn’t restore animation.
The splendor falls
On Carter’s gall.
Stones scattered o’er.
Route one-six-seven,
The convicts crush them into mush
While Carter Brown looks down from Heaven.
We’ve just replaced the car, cash down.
But how we miss you, dear old pal, you
We’ve no new model Carter Brown.
Your chasis had no trade-in value.

My love is down
I saw the blow
Only my love for him
Makes me know
God give me pity
That doesn’t frown
Stand away—stand aside
My love is down!
I had a room once
Brush and a comb
When things were tough
I could run home
Now there’s the ring and ?
Purse—and a town—
But stand away—stand aside
My love is down!
My love’s a rough neck
My love’s a pug
All of the family
Think I’m a mug
I was just born this way
Somebody’s clown—
Stand away! Stand aside!
My love is down!
F. Scott Fitzgerald

(K) Karacters

902 A Portrait
She will never be able to build a house. She hops herself up on crazy arrogance at intervals and wanders around in the woods chopping down everything that looks like a tree (vide: sixteen or twenty short stories in the last year all of them about as interesting as the average high-school product and yet all of them “talented.”) When she comes near to making a clearing it looks too much to her like all the other clearings she’s ever seen so she fills it up with rubbish and debris and is ashamed even to speak of it afterwards. Driven, ordered, organized from without, she is a very useful individual—but her dominant idea and goal is freedom without responsibility which is like gold without metal, spring without winter, youth without age, one of those maddening, coo-coo mirages of wild riches which make her a typical product of our generation. She is by no means lazy yet when she chops down a tree she calls it work—whether it is in the clearing or not. She makes no distinction between work and mere sweat—less in the last few years since she has had arbitrarily to be led or driven.

903 Someone who was as if heart and brain had been removed and were kept in canopic vase.

904 Lonsdale: You don’t want to drink so much because you’ll make a lot of mistakes and develop sensibility and that’s a bad trait for business men.

905 He had once been a pederast and he had perfected a trick of writing about all his affairs as if his boy friends had been girls, thus achieving feminine types of a certain spurious originality. (See Proust, Cocteau and Noel Coward.)

906 A dignity that would have been heavy save that behind it and carefully overlaid with gentleness, something bitter and bored showed through.

907 There was, for instance, Mr. Percy Wrackham, the branch manager, who spent his time making lists of the Princeton football team, and of the second team and the third team; one busy morning he made a list of all the quarterbacks at Princeton for thirty years. He was utterly unable to concentrate. His drawer was always full of such lists.

908 He abandoned the younger generation which had treated him so shabbily, and, using the connections he had made, blossomed out as a man of the world. His apprenticeship had been hard, but he had served it faithfully, and now he walked sure-footed through the dangerous labyrinths of snobbery. People abruptly forgot everything about him except that they liked him and that he was usually around; so, as it frequently happens, he attained his position less through his positive virtues than through his ability to take it on the chin.

909 He was a warrior; for him, peace was only the interval between wars, and peace was destroying him.

910 “Sure, more strong here. More peasants come, with strength and odor of ground.” (About U. of M. in eyes of Japanese.)

911 Frank Crowninschild and coffee house.

912 “Against my better judgment,” he would say, having no judgment and “obviously” and “precisely.”

913 About that. From the moment when, as a boy of twenty, his handsome eyes had gazed off into imaginary distance of a Griffith Western, his audience had been really watching the progress of s straightforward, slow-thinking, romantic man through an accidentally glamorous life.

914 Young Fox “America missed a great opportunity by not forgiving debts.”

915 A young lady “in pictures” who once, in the boom days of 1919, had been almost a star. It had been announced in the movie magazines that she was to “have her own company” but the company had never materialized. The second girl did interviews with “cinema personalities” interviews which began “When one thinks of Lottie Jarvis, one pictures a voluptuous tigress of a woman.”

916 The man who entertained Scottie in Brittany.

917 Minnie the Moocher stabbed me.

918 He has a dark future. He hates everything.

919 But if they haven’t it all comes out the same. Only if they control themselves they forget their emotion and so they think they haven’t missed anything.

920 “Don’t get the idea that Seth doesn’t ask anything. He’s lived all his life off better minds than his own.”

921 “Stick-around” spirit from Duffy

922 Uncle Phil idea about this kind uncle or aunt—how far is he indulging himself—(not that it matters except how far is his—self-indulgence to be trusted.)

923 Nicole’s attitude toward sickness was either a sympathy toward a tired or convalescent relation who didn’t need it, and which therefore was mere sentimentality, or else a fear when they were absolutely threatened with death, toward real sickness—dirty, boring, unsympathetic she could control no attitude—she had brought up selfish in that regard. Often this was a source of anger and contempt in her to Dick.

924 Idea about Nicole can do everything, extroverts toward everything save people so earth, flowers, pictures, voices, comparisons seem to writhe—no rest wherever she turns, like a tom-tom beat. Escapes over the line where in fantasy alone she finds rest.

925 No first old man in an amateur production of a Victorian comedy was ever more pricked and prodded by the daily phonomens of life than was

926 Mrs. Rogers’ voice drifted off on an indefinite note. She had never in her life compassed a generality until it had fallen familiarly on her ear from constant repetition.

927 Instinct of Peggy Joyce collecting jewelry instead of bonds

928 NORA LANGHORNE FLYNN (Now 1935—age 42 or 43)
Born 1892—11th child—Greenwood, Virginia
Stuff from little niggers for Corbett-Fitzsimmons movie
Visited oldest sister Lady Astor
Married 1910—Age 18—Two children
Met Lefty Flinn summer 1914. Lefty at piano. Like children. Picture of Madonna. One month—bigamy—West Nora to England. Letters intercepted
Lefty married (1) Palmer—children 2 Nora celebate from husband
War nurse (Capt.)
(2) Viola Dana Officer tying tie.
Scotsman who wishes she had been born a housemaid
15 years pass. Chil­dren grown
Letter in 1931. Lefty arrives Carleton drunk. Flight to Paris, Riviera, Africa—followed by lover with mustache. Lady Astor hell, Hoyty, etc.
Marriage. America 1931-1935
His disappearances.

929 List of troubles

930 He was wearing old white duck trousers with a Spanish flair and a few strange coins nodding at their seams and a striped Riviera sweater and straw shoes from the Bahamas, and an ancient Mexican hat. It was, for him, a typical costume Diana thought. Always at Christmas she arranged to get him some odd foreign importation from parts as far away as possible from Loudoun County.

931 Boyd’s lordly manner not quite carried off. Contrast with Hitchcock’s.

932 Erskine Gwynn

933 Eleanor Hill

934 Tuolmans

935 For the first week he was called Aquilla’s brother (“That Frenchman,” he reported at home, “kep’ a-callin me Aquilla’s brother. ’Aquilla’s brother!’ he’d call, till I hardly knew who I was.”) because Aquilla’s return was expected daily, and as time passed the question was never investigated as to whether he had a name of his own. So that during the hours he spent in Rene’s house he had, to himself at least, hardly any identity at all.

936 Called him Aquilla with a sort of noise after it like Aquilla boom as a sort of recognition that it was not quite his name.

937 A small tongue-tied colored boy. He had come one day to replace Aquilla who had an aching tooth.

938 When I like men I want to be like them—I want to lose the outer qualities that give me my individuality and be like them. I don’t want the man I want to absorb into myself all the qualities that make him attractive and leave him out. I cling to my own inards. When I like women I want to own them, to dominate them, to have them admire me.

939 Like so many “men’s women” she hid behind girls when available, as if challenging a man to break through and rescue her. Any group she was with became automatically a little club, protected by her frail, almost ethereal strength, tensile strength of thin fine wires.

940 The old woman afraid of aeroplanes

941 Alec had a terrible temper and had once chased him for ten blocks with a sharp butcher knife intending to cut him smaller. Claire once chased him half that far with a dead rat. But he was actually braver than either of them—he caught behind the bat without a mask and when he was thirteen he broke three ribs in football tackling a boy who weighed a hundred and seventy.

942 When he was despised it was rather more than usually annoying, the last stages of throwing him over I mean. For he knew it as soon if not sooner than you, and seemed to hang about analyzing your actual method of accomplishing the business.

943 Fatality of Beauty

944 Man who instinctively with people he liked turned the left side of face the ugly half people, had corresponding reacton on brain, spinal chord etc. and had charm.
Contrariwise right side of face exact opposite. Perfect, made him self conscious paralyzed mental and nervous etc.
To be worked out.

945 Mr. Chambers of Montgomery as character

946 The nervous quarrel between husband and wife, which had already caused sensitive passengers to have their tables changed in the dining salon

947 Jitters clinic, given by Ruby Robert Kelly who had died of jitters there.

948 Seemed to extend in its own right out of the ordinary world of courtesy.

949 He had a knowledge of the interior of Skull and Bones

950 You were so brave about people, George. Whoever it was, you walked right up to them and tore something aside as if it was in your way and began to know them. I tried to make love to you, just like the rest, but it was difficult. You drew people right up close to you and held them there, not able to move either way.

951 Addresses in his pocket—mostly bootleggers and psychiatrists.

952 Inescapable racial childishness. In the act of enjoying anything wanted to tell. Sandy Annabel etc. trying to get everything out of first meeting.

953 He seldom exuded liquor because now he had tuberculosis and couldn’t breathe very freely.

954 Just when somebody’s taken him up and is making a big fuss over him he pours the soup down his hostess’ back, kisses the serving maid and passes out in the dog kennel. But he’s done it too often. He’s run through about everybody, until there’s no one left.

955 “You mustn’t do that, Abe,” protested Mary. “Abe spends half his time living up to engagements he make when he’s tight. This spring in Paris he used to take dozens of cards and scraps of paper out of his pockets every morning, all scrawled with dates and obligations. He’d sit and brood over them for an hour before he dared tell me who was coming to lunch.”

956 I’ve given parties that have made Indian rajahs green with envy. I’ve had prima donnas break $10,000 engagements to come to my smallest dinners. When you were still playing button back in Ohio I entertained on a cruising trip that was so much fun that I had to sink my yacht to make the guests go home.

957 Mother had explained his faults to Seth and found him extremely understanding.

958 She wanted to be ringmaster—for awhile. In somebody else’s circus—a father’s circus. “Look here my father owns this circus. Give me the whip. I don’t know how or why I snap it but my father owns mis circus. Give me your mask, clown, acrobat your trapeze, etc.

959 Elsa was a social impressario of considerable ability but her ambition had driven her to please so many worthless people that she had become, so to speak, a sort of lowest common denominator of all her clients.

960 Zelda on Gerald’s Irishness, face moving first.

961 Hates old things, the past, Provence. A courtier.

962 Constance Talmage on my middle-class snobbishness. Also Fanny Bryce

963 Throw blood from one side of the head to another (Cuban)

964 There is undoubtedly something funny about not being a lady, or rather about being a gold digger. You’ve got to laugh a lot like Constance Talmage and Ruth.

965 Rosalind always hiding in closets till the battle is over and then coming back to say, “I told you so.”

966 Don, unlike Elsa Maxwell, yearned after higher things. This yearning he indulged in a series of modest parodies which he declared were “better than Candide.” However the attempt to convince himself brought on a short paranoia during which he made efforts to pull down the pillars on all our heads and hide in the ruins. We were through, he said,—then, satisfied he returned to suck. The Whitneys bought him up cheap and turned him out to grass on the private golf links—for all I know he is still there.

967 Once tried to get up a ship’s party on a ferry boat.

968 You had to have head lettuce and mayonaise and she realized vaguely that the latter was seldom found in a wild state. Brought up in apartment hotels and married at the beginning of the delicatessen age, Vivian had not learned to cook anything save a strange liquid that in emergencies she evolved from the coffee bean; she was most familiar with the product of the soil in forms in such highly evolved forms as “triple combination sandwiches.” A farm to her was a place where weary butterflies retired with their lovers after the last fade out in the movies.

969 Vivian Barnaby was just what her husband had made her, no masterpiece. She was pretty in a plaintive key, so was the child, and momentarily when you first met them you liked them for a certain innocence, a blowy immaturity—momentarily, that was all.

970 Perhaps a drunk with great bursts of sentimentality or resentment or maudlin grief.

971 He saw men acutely and he saw them small, and he was not invariably amused—it was obvious that his occasional dry humor was washed over the brim of an over full vessel. Francis’ first instinct was to defer to him as to an older man, a method of not bothering him, but he saw that Herkimer turned away from delicacy even more than from the commonness to which he was adjusted.

972 Roscoe’s gestures increasingly large and increasingly fall short. Again he “hates old things.”

973 Greatest vitality goes into displeasure and discontent

974 Irving—on the bust at 50

975 Paul Nelson from School Play Onward

976 He said that no matter what happened he always carried about his own can of olive oil. He had a large collection of lead soldiers and considered Ludendorf’s memoirs one of the greatest books ever written. When McKisco said that history was already ruined by too much about war Monsieur Brugerol’s mouth twisted fiercely under his hooked nose and as he answered that history is a figured curtain, hiding that terrible door into the part through which we all must go.

977 Capable of imaginative rudeness

978 Mother always waiting in waiting-rooms an hour early, etc. pulled forward by an irresistible urge of boredom and vitality.

979 Egloff as being the typical uncertain tentative attitude

980 Weaver

981 Rosalind talks in several more syllables than she thinks in.

982 He was one of those men who had a charger; she always knew it was tethered outside, chafing at its bit. But now, for once, she didn’t hear it, though she listened for the distant snort and fidgeting of hoofs.

983 Like most men who do not smoke he was seldom still and his moments of immobility were more taut and noticeable.

984 Someone with a low voice who feels humble about it.

985 About a man looking as if he was made up for a role he couldn’t play.

986 Fat people—good humor vs. Romance—sweat

987 Mrs. Smith had been born on the edge of an imaginary precipice and had lived there ever since, looking over the precipice every half hour in horror and yet unable to get herself away.

988 surprised that a creature so emotionally tender and torn as himself should have been able to set up such strong defenses around his will.

989 My father is very much alive at something over a hundred and always resents the fact that the fathers of most of the principal characters in my books are dead before the book begins. To please him I once had a father stagger in and out at the end of the book but he was far from flattered—however, this is a short word on money lending. Father passed on to me certain inerradicable tastes in peotry. The Raven and the Belles, The Prisoner of Chillon (it’s the fact that at the moment I’m looking down at the original that makes me write this)

990 One button always showed at front of his trousers.

991 Please? screamed English girl.

992 Family explained or damned by its dog

993 English girl: “For over 250 years there hasn’t been a battle there—match that.”

994 Girl’s tenderness against man’s bogus humanity.

995 The drunk on Majestic and his 100 yard dash.

996 Mrs. Widdle in my book either—she was bound to sleep with someone or to humiliate them—she didn’t care which.

997 Some of those who have known him would be content to have him spared my bitterness which roams in and out of sacred gardens. And some day I may meet him again it might be his whim to honor me once more with a moment or so of—, hand me my self respect, my justification on a platter as he had a way of doing.

998 How if I said I was impressed by “can” motif in E. M.

999 Roscoe made up Dinah

1000 Roscoe as a reader. A reader’s mind. One’s own experience, the necessity for using which educated many fiction writers never existed for him. Indeed he is one of those for whom the visual world does not exist. He reads and his mind is stimulated; before it is assimilated (i.e. associate it with?) he has an elation, as if he had thought of it himself, almost a creative ecstacy. He can hardly wait to get at a chance to work it in

1001 Bogus girl who reads Ulysses, Wharton gives her a pain in the eye.

1002 As to Ernest as a boy—reckless, adventurous, etc. Yet it is undeniable that the dark was peopled for him. His bravery and acquired characteristics.

1003 Donald Stewart ecstacy about Lew Cody in the act.

1004 All girls know some way to kill time but Scottie knows all the ways.

1005 I never know what Scottie is—I only know what she’s like. This year she seems to have a certain community of purpose with the Scarlet Pimpernel.

1006 Hank the cop and the clapper.

1007 For Don communism is a spiritual exercise. He’s making it his own.

1008 Don: An intellectual simpleton. He pleases you not by direct design but because his desire to please is so intense that it is disarming. He pleases you most perhaps when his very words are irritants.

1009 Zeld is frou-frou, her frou-frou characteristics.

1010 Boy from the Tropics

That wonderful book, Soldiers of Fortune was a “gross representation”. He was least objectionable when he talked about what they did to Igarottes and how there were natives in the backhills of Luzon who had tails of real fur.

(L) Literary

1011 Charles Brackett’s Book
It was wonderful. I couldn’t lay it down, was impelled on the contrary to hurry through it. In fact I finished it six and a half minutes while getting shaved in the Continental Hotel. It is what we call a book written at a fine pace as for the high spots there are so many that it is difficult to pick them but I could select.

1012 Nothing is any more permitted in fiction like stage convention of keeping people on stage by coincidences.

1013 Edgar Wallace—G. A. Henty

1014 Long rhythm based on Essie’s full excuse and thank you to Aquilla’s I mean.

1015 Barnaby Rudge ran in Sat Eve Post

1016 Must listen for conversation style a la Joyce


Livid   ]   all misused
Demean   ]
Jejune   ]

1018 In a transition from say:
fight or action interest to love and woman interest
The transition cannot be abrupt. The man must be before or after an event to be interested in women; that is, if he is a man and not a weakwad.
Fault in transition in Musa Dag book. After battle right to Julia. Sometimes clumsy. Better an interval. You cannot tie two so different masculine emotions by the same thread.

1019 Nevertheless value of Ernest’s feeling about the pure heart when writing—in other words the comparatively pure heart, the “house in order.”

1020 Zelda’s style formed on her letters to her mother—an attempt to make visual etc.

1021 T. S. P. A Romance and a Reading List
Sun also Rises. A Romance and a Guide Book

1022 The only reason the artist’s judgment is better is because his reason, if it is really for his work, is his opinion on the various top swayings of men and ideas is less disinterested than any other people’s reason for unlike the philosophers he can at any point discountenance the whole method of his reasoning unlike the scientist he can claim being closer to nature. He reverts again and again to martyr and clown. Not apropos consider Shaw and The Bohemian Mrs. Swann and Co.

1023 Cisebeo for gigolo.

1024 Resent the attempt of the boys and girls who tried to bury me before I was dead.

1025 Books are like brothers. I am an only child. Gatsby my imaginary eldest brother, Amory my younger, Anthony my worry. Dick my comparatively good brother but all of them far from home. When I have the courage to put the old white light on the home of my heart, then—

1026 Stuf about Grande Guignol (serious).

1027 Shakespeare—whetting, frustrating, surprising and gratifying.

1028 Forebearance, good word.

1029 I can never remember the times when I wrote anything—This Side of Paradise time or Beautiful and Damned and Gatsby time for instance. Lived in story.

1030 Idea for an essay on the “Lilies that fester,” sonnet.

1031 That Willa Cather’s poem shall stand at beginning of Mediaval and that it shall be the story of Ernest.

1032 What are successful backgrounds now-a-days—think— Coquette?

1033 Shows in which you forget background, remember no help from description. Gas stations is the type.

1034 Just as Stendahl’s portrait of a Byronic man made Le Rouge et Noir so couldn’t my portrait of Ernest as Phillipe make the real modern man.

1035 But there was one consolation:
They could never use any of Mr. Hemingway’s four letter words, because that was for fourth class and fourth class has been abolished—
(The first class was allowed to cheat a little on the matter.)
But on the other hand they could never use any two letter words like NO. They had to use three letter words like YES!

1036 A character who spends all his time trying to break down a stray and careless aphorisms of great men. Give him a name and list him under characters and note aphorisms as they pop up in reading.

1037 There never was a good biography of a good novelist. There couldn’t be. He is too many people if he’s any good.

1038 Robert (“Gastric”) Forsite (Kyle Creighton)

1039 The great hitch hike to glory that’s going to make them good artisans—able to repair the car much in the manner of the cars in this jacket freize.

1040 And such condescension toward the creative life— Tolstoi caught the sense of the Napoleonic wars out in the street from the man in the street; his comments on fiction which would make any old 1864 copy of Leslie’s more humanly valuable than The Red Badge of Courage—the idealization of all that passes through his empty mind; his hatred of all people who formed the world in which he lives—a political Oscar Wilde peddling in the provinces the plums he took from our pudding; his role of Jesus cursing. You can see him going from prize fight to first night to baseball game-maybe even to women—trying to put back into movement the very things Lenin regretted that he might have destroyed—gracelessness and ugliness for its own sake. Gentlemen, proletarians—for a prize skunk I give you Mr. Forsite.

1041 D. H. Lawrence great attempt to synthesize animal and emotional—things he left out. Essential pre-Marxian. Just as I am essentially Marxian.

1042 She had written a book about optimism called Wake up and Dream which had the beautiful rusty glow of a convenient half-truth—a book that left out illness and death, war, insanity, and all measure of achievement, with titillating comfortability. She had also written a wretched novel and a subsequent volume telling her friends how to write fiction, so she was on her way to being a prophet in the great American Tradition.

1043 When Whitman said “Oh Pioneers” he said all.

1044 Byron’s mountains warm.

1045 Didn’t Hemmingway say this in effect:
If Tom Wolfe ever learns to separate what he gets from books from what he gets from life he will be an original. All you can get from books is rhythm and technique. He’s half-grown artistically—this is truer than what Ernest said about him. But when I’ve criticized him (several times in talk) I’ve felt bad afterwards. Putting sharp weapons in the hands of his inferiors.

1046 Reporting the extreme things as if they were the average things will start you on the art of fiction.

1047 “Inviscera” instead of “Invictus.”

1048 Work out my hard luck season—my most productive seasons, etc

1049 Conrad’s secret theory examined.
He knew that things do transpire about people. Therefore he wrote the truth and transposed it to parallel to give that quality, adding confusion however to his structure. Nevertheless there is in his scheme a desire to imitate life which is in all the big shots. Have I such an idea in the composition of this book?

1050 Conrad influenced by Man Without a Country

1051 Gene Stratton-Porter. What a cheap old harpy she was. If Frank Norris had written one more chapter to the Octupus she’d have had one more novel.

1052 No English painting because of their putting everything into words.


Bracket Book (See Notes) Merde
Couchez avec
Ass (for arse)

1054 List of Zelda’s faults and virtues as a writer.

1055 Chapter in slow motion.

1056 Right to Pretty heroines

1057 Exact equivalent of escape mechanism in Little Colonel books is in escape mechanism of Greta Garbo films.

1058 Tie up with Faulkner—Lord Fauntleroy.

1059 Art invariably grows out of a period when in general the artist admires his own nation and wants to win its approval. This fact is not altered by the circumstances that his work may take the form of satire for satire is the subtle flattery of a certain minority in a nation. The greatest artists grow out of these periods as the tall head of the crop. They may seem not to be affected but they are.

1060 Great art is the contempt of a great man for small art.

1061 Tarkington: I have a horror of going into a personal debauch and coming out of it devitalized with no interest except an acute observation of the behavior of colored people, children and dogs.

1062 The queer slanting effect of the substantive, the future imperfect, a matter of intuition or ear to O’Hara, is unknown to careful writers like Bunny and John.

1063 My feelings on re-reading “Imagination and a Few Mothers” and realizing that it had probably influenced Mrs. Swann’s whole life.

1064 I thought Waldo Frank was just the pen name that a whole lot of other writers used for symposiums.

1065 When the first rate author wants an exquisite heroine or a lovely morning, he finds that all the superlatives have been worn shoddy by his inferiors. It should be a rule that bad writers must start with plain heroines and ordinary mornings, and, if they are able, work up to something better.

1066 Man reads good reviews of his book so many times that he begins finally to remodel his style on them and use their rhythms.

1067 Realistic details like Dostoiefski glasses

1068 Re Cole Porter: vide the ending of Mrs. Lowseboro
Something which does not bother even to be a paraphrase of Tchaikowski’s Chanson Triste

1069 The scandal of “English Teaching”.

1070 The Thackeray at Edward Everett Horton’s.

1071 The two basic stories of all times are Cinderella and Jack the Giant Killer—the charm of women and the courage of men. The 19th century glorified the merchant’s cowardly son. Now a reaction.

1072 Taking things hard—from Genevra to Joe Mank—: That’s stamp that goes into my books so that people can read it blind like brail.

1073 The Steinbeck scene. Out of touch with that life. The exact observation there.

1074 Bunny Wilson writing his Renan before Christ is deified.


Analysis of Tender:
I Case History 151-212 (1 pps.(change moon) p.212
II Rosemary’s Angle 3-104 101 pps. P.3
III Casualties 104-148,213-224 55 pps.(-2)(120 & 121)
IV Escape 225-306 82 pps.
V The Way Home 306-408 103 pps.(-8)(332-341)

1076 To write a series of children’s books illustrated by someone like Job or Orgeille.

1758 The episodic book, (Dos P. + Romaine etc.) may be wonderful, but the fact remains that it is episodic, and and such definition implies a limitation. You are with the character until the author gets tired of him—then you leave him for a while. In the true novel, you have to stay with the character all the time, and you acquire a sort of second wind about him, a depth of realization.

1765 In a short story, you have only so much money to buy just one costume. Not the parts of many. One mistake in the shoes or tie, and you’re gone.

1783 Play—For Act II. Something happens that to audience, changes entire situation, such as significant suitcase to country, or old terror apparently buried in Act I.

(M) Moments (What people do)

1077 DOGS
We went through a routine, with a lot of false starts, charges, leg and throat holds, rolling overs, and escapes.
I only barked a little in the base to stretch my throat— I’m not one of the kind always shooting off their muzzle
We followed a tall lady for awhile—no particular reason except she had a parcel with meat in it—we knew we wouldn’t get any but you never can tell. Sometimes I just feel like shutting my nose and just following somebody pretending they’re yours or that they’re taking you somewhere.
The Brain wasn’t there yet but the Beard was. He got out that damn pole and tried to kid me again, holding it out and jabbering—a long time ago I figured out that his object is to see if I’m fool enough to jump over it. But I don’t bite, just walk around it. Then he tried the trick they all do—held my paws and tried to balance me on the end of my spine. I never could figure out the point of that one.
I wanted to lick him, but when I came really close he snarled, “Scram!” and got half up on his haunches. He thought I was going to eat him just because he was down.
The little boy said, “Get away you!” and it made me feel bad because I’ve never eaten a dog in my life and would not unless I was very hungry.
I must have a hundred bones around here and I don’t know why I save them. I never find them again unless accidentally, but I just can’t stand leaving them around.

1078 Thinking the world was going to start over with the things they could make of cellophane. Because for a moment everyone was making things of cellophane.

1079 Moving on to hot seat in theatre.

1080 In processions I always look at the coach man and see what he looks like.

1081 The idea of the grand dame slighly tight (a la Margaret Harriman) is one of the least impressive in the world. You know: “The foreign office will hear about this, hic!”

1082 I once financed the great grandson of the great Morgan.

1083 Who did I kiss who said, “Don’t tell Zelda”? Sandy?

1084 It was an old pistol for as he took it away from her a slice of pearl came off the handle and fell on the floor.

1085 Some kind of small animal that looked all wrong “as if it were turned inside out,” had emerged from the forest, regarded them curiously for a moment and hurried mysteriously away.

1086 They were all hungry now, and sitting jaded beside the stream they developed individual tendencies to look around for a sign “Restaurant” or strain their ears for the tinkle of a dinner bell.

1087 In Manilla Mr. Barnaby had struck her with a whist broom because she had ruined his life.

1088 Nurses clucking. As if that confirmed some idea of life that they had held for long

1089 Dorothy Parker going Victorian, making up fortune in the past by weeping—a sort of deliberate retrogression

1090 He put out a mosquito on the paper and erased its body with the rubber

1091 Her mouth fell open comically, she balanced a moment

1092 Almost release but scene broken by local music

1093 She was asleep—he stood for a moment beside her bed sorry for her, because she was asleep, and because she had set her slippers beside her bed.

1094 Waiting for the lady to take out the bag on bus

1095 Everyone suddenly stiffened—after a terrible moment Mrs. Littleton, by making herself figuratively into oil managed to ooze a few words through.

1096 Only a fat Victorian pincushion filled with an assorted variety of many-colored-headed pins seemed to assure her that a well-brought-up girl would do the right thing.

1097 They ran for it through a blinding white hot crash.

1098 He cocked one miserable eye at the bright tropical stars.

1099 Belina the young Corsican yelled with glory as he bounced his aeroplane across the sky.

1100 The inebriated American who had invited him to lunch thought at first that Val was a son of the czar.

1101 “Dramatic club! Oh, gosh!” cried the girl. “Did you hear that? She thinks it’s a dramatic club, like Miss Pinkerton’s school.” In a moment her uninfectious laughter died away.

1102 Back in the sitting room he resumed his walking; unconsciously he was walking like his father, the judge, dead thirty years ago; he was parading his dead father up and down the room.

1103 The cuff button dropped to the floor; he stooped to pick it up and then said “Helen!” urgently into the mouth-piece to cover the fact that he had momentarily been away.

1104 The water went into his nose and started a raw stinging; it blinded him; it lingered afterward in his ears, rattling back and forth like pebbles for hours.

1105 The silence was coming from some deep place in Mrs. Ives’ heart.

1106 The almost regular pat-smack, smack- pat- pat of the balls, the thud of a jump and the overtone of the umpire’s “Fault;” “Out;” “Game and st,6 —2, Mr. Oberwalter.”

1107 Our fathers died. Suddenly in the night they died and in the morning we knew.

1108 They laughed, ending with yawning gurgles that were not laughed out but sucked in.

1109 She yet spoke somewhat sharply, as people will with a better refusal to convey.

1110 To ride off into the sunset in such a chariot, into the very hush and mystery of night, beside him the mystery of that baby-faced girl.

1111 Couple treading water dancing.

1112 Wiping his chin with a long rag which he took from some obscure section of his upholstery.

1113 When he left the house their engagement was over, but her love for him was not over and her hope was not gone, and her actions had only begun.

1114 If Teddy had played the current sentimental song from Ermine, and had played it with feeling, she would have understood and been moved, but he was plunging her suddenly into a world of mature emotions, whither her nature neither could nor wished to follow.

1115 A chorus of pleasant envy followed in the wake of their effortless glamour.

1116 He threw his hands up so high it seemed as if they left his wrists and were caught again on their descent.

1117 Hesitation before name doesn’t displease.

1118 Behind them a long haired Nebraska pederast (not Van Vechten) told the plot in mournful numbers.

1119 He went back into the bathroom and swallowed a draught of rubbing alcohol guaranteed to produce violent gastric disturbances.

1120 He put his mind in order with a short resume of the history of music, beginning with some chords from The Messiah and ending with Debussy’s La Plus Que Lent, which had an evocative quality for him, because he had first heard it the day his cat died.

1121 Clubbing him with his taller fist his head side-swiped a fence with blood tasting on his mouth and going cold on his ear lobes.

1122 Trying to dismiss him as a sort of inspired fairy.

1123 Opens magazine several times at the fact that poetry is at crossroads.

1124 A beam, soft and pleasant fell across his spirit. Those two beings, tender and cloud-like, unreal, with the little sins of little people. They were no more than sick room flowers where he lay.

1125 But at the look of childish craftiness in her eyes he took it back quickly.

1126 She leaned back confortably against the water pipe, as one enjoying the moment at leisure. He lit her a cigarette impatiently and waited.

1127 She walked toward the dressing table as though her own reflection was the only decent company with which to foregather.

1128 De Sano tearing the chair

1129 The funeral carriages—a man smoking in the last

1130 Two brown port bottles appeared ahead, developed white labels, turned into starched nuns who seared us with holy eyes as we went by.

1131 We left him there dancing with a fluttering waiter.

1132 Dog arrives. I call him. Doesn’t like me. Expressionless he passes on.

1133 In the big halt of night, an arrow fell in camp—it was neither poisoned nor pigeon-burdened—only pointed, and during big halt the enemy was a friendly thing.

1134 Her voice trying to blow life into the dead number 2-0-1-1

1135 Mother majestically dripping her sleeves in the coffee.

1136 His ecstacy made him use the cane. He pointed it at little patches of snow that still remained on the ground and then raised it overhead dragging it through the lower limbs of the trees.

1137 There was a flick of the lip somewhere, a bending of the smile toward some indirection, a momentary lifting and dropping of the curtain over a hidden passage.

1138 he sat back robbed and glowering.

1139 Hats coming off, thought it was his head

1140 Went into the bathroom and sat on the seat crying because it was more private man anywhere she knew.

1141 When he urinated it sounded like night prayer.

1142 The feeling that she was (his) began between his shoulders and spread over him like a coat going on.

1143 A thing called the Grand Canyon Symphony which seemed to me to lean heavily on Horses Horses Horses.

1144 breaking into an “Off to Buffalo” against a sudden breath of wet wind.

1145 Shocked at five razor blades instead of twelve.

1146 Shuddering with pleasure at the difficult idiom.

1147 The young people got back into the boat—they all felt fine and quietly passionate.

1148 When she heard his footsteps again she turned frankly and held his eyes for a moment until his turned away, as a woman can when she has the protection of other men’s company.

1149 An idea ran back and forth in his head like a blind man, knocking over the solid furniture.

1150 He had written a complimentary letter to Mr. X, the humorist, for an autograph and had received Mr. X’s form letter which was a joke. About bunions ’Dear Sir,’ the letter said, ’My advice to you is to

1151 Her mother had handed the passenger list across the table—her fingers so meticulously indicating the name that Rosemary had to pry it up to read.

1152 Person driving away after seeing friend off (Sheilah) “I’m glad you’ve gone John”, and does a takem glancing back.

1153 Going home at night—lights out—newsboy remind me.

1154 “Bring me a box of Elizabeth Arden” you’d wired me and how our love shone through any old trite phrase in a telegram.

1155 After a while a skittish lady with an air of being pursued slipped in and not without a few wary glances around achieved sanctuary in the front row.

1156 The moment of closeness between savagry and civilization never closer than in the self-consciousness of truces and surrenders of men in love with the same girl, or in common life when we handle money. Scene to show this—paying Flora setting down money on bureau—no you keep it, etc.

1157 Moss Hart’s compliment and me calling him author of Babes in Arms.

1158 The pins and the napkin ring I swallowed.

1159 ———for a moment the sparkler went in four directions, exploded. The end of four stars. They exploded in four directions, detonated. The corner of the room—stars—just for a moment. He did not what he had done.

1160 “And Nanny’s Trunk.”

1161 I have known and analyzed too much charm to be impressed by ladies who recompose their features after an interdict.

1745 “Shall I save him for another five minutes?” says Nora.

1776 My story of self conscious woman who said son-of-a-bitch instead bitch at hunt dinner.

(N) Nonsense and Stray Phrases

1162 Kings Own Leopards.

1163 He would be part of that great army driven by the dark storm.

1164 “I’ve arranged that if anything should happen to you the remains will be kept in cold storage until I return.”

1165 They were startled—that was inevitable; one couldn’t crash right in on people without tearing a little bit of diaphanous material.

1166 The car waited tenderly for a minute.

1167 All around her he could feel the vast Mortmain fortune melting down, seeping back into the matrix whence it had come.

1168 Scott Fitzgerald climax runner for the Cal. “Courtesans” today passed his zenith. It was rushed after him to Peoria, Indiana, but by that time the soap on the nursery floor had become a shambles.

1169 You’re not talking to a scared picker full of hookworm.

1170 With your practically brilliant faculty for supposing that whatever isn’t in the foreground of your conscience has ceased to exist.

1171 There’s nothing like a good dog—unless it’s a good cow or a good slice of underdone tripe.

1172 At the pound they would call off the names of the dogs. Some had to be carried out barking, others walked nobly. They were taken in little carts to place of execution and then one by one they disappeared down the sausage machine.

1173 Have you ever known a man who could bark? I have not. Or who liked to be led out on the end of a chain? I have not.

1174 He had long forgotten whether Darrow called Scopes a monkey or Bryan called Darrow a scope or why Leopold-Loeb was ever tried in the first place.


Continentals starving for want of coal finally get some but can’t digest it because it’s hard coal. After the war—hollow victory—they lost Montreal and it’s wet. Profiteers in daguerreotypes. Everybody tired of Yankee Doodle. Men seasick crossing the Delaware. Rammed her petticoat down cannon, she was restrained. British walked away with hands over their eyes.

1176 In an instant the combination of atoms that was Eva Coo was dissolved.

1177 Ernest Hemingway, while careful to avoid cliches in his work, fairly revels in them in his private life, his favorite being Parbleu (“So what?”) French, and “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” Contrary to popular opinion he is not as tall as Thomas Wolfe, standing only six feet five in his health belt. He is naturally clumsy with his body, but shooting from a blind or from adequate cover, makes a fine figure of a man. We are happy to announce that his work will appear in future exclusively on United States postage stamps.

1178 Thomas Wolfe or “Loup” (Anthony Adverse, Time and the River, N.Y. Telephone Directory 1935) is a newcomer to American Skulldugery. Born during a premium contest.

1179 The Barnyard boys or Fund on the Soil

1180 To dine at a “serious” restaurant.

1181 He’s a roll call, that fellow

1182 Proximity of her tan legs

1183 The Blue Ribbon Boys

They’re much less expensive to run
It’s all right to run around in
It’ll do to wear around the house
It’ll keep us from being extravagant and inviting too many people to dinner
It’ll do when we have another
We’re saving that up so we’ll have something to look forward to
That’s good for the moths
It ( a carpet ) just gets worn out in this house
We want to wait until we get a really nice one

1185 A weak heart, a sick heart, a broken heart or a chicken heart?

1186 Shot through bald forehead—like where a picture and its nail has been removed from wall

1187 The Thyroid Islands

1188 This is to say the least Miss Rosemary Prince

1189 rules that fight through all the weather like six wheeled cars crossing the Sahara.     ’

1190 Listen little Elia, draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I’ll tell you a story.

1191 Drifting towards some ignoble destiny they could not evade.

1192 Then I was drunk for many years, and then I died.

1193 it would have been a bigger picture if he could have had everyone gilded.

1194 since his wife ran off one windy night and gave him back the custody of his leisure hours.

1195 A whole bunch of men kidnapped to take blackheads out of their neck

1196 He had hit her before and she him

1197 Far gone, far called, far crowned

1198 We gave the corpse twenty-four hours to leave town.

1199 Esprit Frondeur

1200 As twice as a double bumble bee

1201 The aristocratic nose and the vulgar heart

1202 Superfluous as a Gideon Bible in the Ritz

1203 Given at his birth a spoonful of noxema just brought from Palestine.

1204 One can do little more than deny the persistent rumors that hover about him; for instance that he was born in a mole cave near Schenectady, in a state of life-long coma—conversely that his father was a certain well-known international munitions manufacturer of pop­guns, a notorious blatherskite who earned a precarious living in the dives of Zion City or as others say a line coach at a famous correspondence school.

1205 Simile about paper they paste on glass during building

1206 The awful reverberating thunder of his absence

1207 Father bought her a Christian

1208 I have never wished there was a God to call on—I have often wished there was a God to thank.

1209 “Sure—you did a sequence for Collins with a watch face and some little card-board silhouettes. It was very interesting.”

1210 I have had more trouble getting people out from under stamps. I just love people under stamps. I remember when I first got under a stamp with a girl—

1211 Better Hollywood’s bizaare variations on the normal, with George Collins on the phone ordering twelve girls for dinner, none over eighteen.

1212 We’ll find you a pooch that’ll say Arp.”

1213 That I was as ill behaved on one stick of furniture as you were on another.

1214 Dive back Aphrodite, dive back and try for the fish undersea.

1215 The three rich neurotics.

1216 Ordered twisted fish and a cat’s handle bar.

1217 The blue-green unalterable dream.

1218 A day full of imaginary telegrams.

1219 The Blue-eenum…carried 12 professors and a five ton truck sealed in a vaccuum bubble all over Western Europe in an hour.

1220 Joke about am I supposed to eat it—or have I and left it in the incinerator.

1221 Oh wild weekend, thou breath of autumn’s being.

1222 Wit born in darkness of college movie houses.

1223 The “Wyn” in Metro Goldwyn Mayer. Explain its presence.

1224 I think I’d better go out and stay too long—don’t you?

1225 At two-thirty this afternoon the Countess of Frejus will be fired out of this cannon.

1226 Section ending. And that brings us to that Goddamn word “compare”.

1227 Antibes before the merchants came.

1228 Dr.’s take Oath of Hypocracy.

1229 Kid’s Magazine: The Prospective Detective.

1230 Seething Sam from Seething Springs.

1231 I may as well spend this money now. Hell, I may never get it.

1232 Drunk scooter-ing.

1233 When the thing began to begin.

At this post holiday season the refrigerators of the nation are overstuffed with large masses of turkey, the sight of which is calculated to give an adult an attack of dizziness. It seems, therefore, an appropriate time to give the owners the benefit of my experience as an old gourmet, in using this surplus material. Some of the recipes have been in my family for generations. (This usually occurs when rigor mortis sets in.) They were collected over years, from old cook books, yellowed diaries of the Pilgrim Fathers, mail order catalogues, golfbags and trash cans. Not one but has been tried and proven—there are headstones all over America to testify to the fact.
Very well then: Here goes:
1. Turkey Cocktail
To one large turkey add one gallon of vermouth and a demijohn of angostura bitters. Shake.
2. Turkey at la Francais.
Take a large ripe turkey, prepare as for basting and stuff with old watches and chains and monkey meat. Proceed as with cottage-pudding.
3. Turkey and Water
Take one turkey and one pan of water. Heat the latter to the boiling point and then put in the refrigerator When it has jelled drown the turkey in it. Eat. In preparing this recipe it is best to have a few ham sandwiches around in case things go wrong.
4. Turkey Mongole
Take three butts of salami and a large turkey skeleton from which the feathers and natural stuffing have been removed. Lay them out on the table and call up some Mongole in the neighborhood to tell you how to proceed from there.
5. Turkey Mousee
Seed a large prone turkey, being careful to remove the bones, flesh, fins, gravy, etc. Blow up with a bicycle pump. Mount in becoming style and hang in the front hall.
6. Stolen Turkey
Walk quickly from the market and if accosted remark with a laugh that it had just flown into your arms and you hadn’t noticed it. Then drop the turkey with the white of one egg-well, anyhow, beat it.
7. Turkey a la Creme.
Prepare the creme a day in advance, or even a year in advance. Deluge the turkey with it and cook for six days over a blast furnace. Wrap in fly paper and serve.
8. Turkey Hash
This is the delight of all connoisseurs of the holiday beast, but few understand how really to prepare it. Like a lobster it must be plunged alive into boiling water, until it becomes bright red or purple or something, and then before the color fades, placed quickly in a washing machine and allowed to stew in its own gore as it is whirled around.
Only then is it ready for hash. To hash, take a large sharp tool like a nail-file or if none is handy, a bayonet will serve the purpose—and then get at it! Hash it well! Bind the remains with dental floss and serve.
And now we come to the true aristocrat of turkey dishes:
9. Feathered Turkey.
To prepare this a turkey is necessary and a one pounder cannon to compell anyone to eat it. Broil the feathers and stuff with sage brush, old clothes, almost anything you can dig up. Then sit down and simmer. The feathers are to be eaten like artichokes (and this is not to be confused with the old Roman custom of tickling the throat).
10. Turkey at la Maryland
Take a plump turkey to a barber’s and have him shaved, or if a female bird, given a facial and a water wave. Then before killing him stuff with with old newspapers and put him to roost. He can then be served hot or raw, usually with a thick gravy of mineral oil and rubbing alcohol. (Note: This recipe was given me by an old black mammy.)
11. Turkey Remnant
This is one of the most useful recipes for, though not, “chic”, it tells what to do with the turkey after the holiday, and extract the most value from it.
Take the remants, or if they have been consumed, take the various plates on which the turkey or its parts have rested and stew them for two hours in milk of magnesia. Stuff with moth-balls.
12. Turkey with Whiskey Sauce.
This recipe is for a party of four. Obtain a gallon of whiskey, and allow it to age for several hours. Then serve, allowing one quart for each guest.
The next day the turkey should be added, little by little, constantly stirring and basting.
13. For Weddings or Funerals. Obtain a gross of small white boxes such as are used for bride’s cake. Cut the turkey into small squares, roast, stuff, kill, boil, bake and allow to skewer. Now we are ready to begin. Fill each box with a quantity of soup stock and pile in a handy place. As the liquid elapses, the prepared turkey is added until the guests arrive. The boxes delicately tied with white ribbons are then placed in the handbags of the ladies, or in the men’s side pockets.
There I guess that’s enough turkey to talk. I hope I’ll never see or hear of another until—well, until next year.
Left Out—Stand live turkey in ice box until quite stiff ect.

1722 Names for the Bowes House—Easy Payment
Down Payment
Empty Larders
Termite’s Rest
Little Casino
Old Panneling
Conway Tearle

1785 In front of lazy group Animay-shun!

1793 “Right away—high” sang the central in a mad cheer. He laughed.

1804 I’ve got a cancer. What cancer
Tomato can, sir.

1805 I’m Sick. How sick? Sick of one—half a dozen of the other

1806 I’ve got a pane
Pane of glass in my eye.
Spectacles to you.

1807 Smelt Pot—Small box of candy

1808 A pen—appenditius

1809 Sinus—of the declaration

(O) Observations

1235 Strater trying to carry with him the good of every age— one must discard no matter from how unworthy a motive. Trying to see good in everyone he saw only his own good.

1236 Thinking is a development of talking and not talking— thereby furnishing a contrast between if I had and I didn’t.

1237 Parallel of Ernest’s and French conversation as opposed to Gerald and me and U.S.A. emotional bankruptcy.

1238 Drunk at 20, wrecked at 30, dead at 40
Drunk at 21, human at 31, mellow at 41, dead at 51.

1239 Like all men who are fundamentally of the group, of the herd, he was incapable of taking a strong stand with the inevitable loneliness that it implied.

1240 Voices—American doubtful. “Well, I don’t know,” English saying “Extraordinary” refusing to think, French saying “Well there you are.”

1241 Apropos of Cocteau—perverts love of perverted children M. or F. is compensation for missing women who are, in their social aspect, children with guile and sometimes wisdom, but still children.

1242 Like all self-controlled people the French talk to themselves.

1243 She knew that she herself was superior in something to the girls who criticised her—though she often confused her superiority with the homage it inspired.

1244 Too soon they were responding to Josephine with a fatal sameness, a lack of temperament that blurred their personalities.

1245 Cocktails before meals like Americans, wines and brandies like Frenchmen, beer like Germans, whiskey-and-soda like the English, and as they were no longer in the twenties, this preposterous melange, that was like some gigantic cocktail in a nightmare.

1246 Do you know what your affair was founded on? On sorrow. You got sorry for each other.( Did Ernest borrow this one?)

1247 Young people do not perceive at once that the giver of wounds is the enemy and the quoted tattle merely the arrow.

1248 Arbitrary groups formed by the hazards of money or geography may be sufficiently quarrelsome and dull, but for sheer unpleasantness the condition of young people who have been thrust together by a common unpopularity can be compared only with that of prisoners herded in a cell. In Basil’s eyes the guests at the little dinner the following night were a collection of cripples.

1249 I can even live with a lie (even someone else’s lie— can always spot them because imaginative creation is my business and I am probably one of the most expert liars in the world and expect everybody to discount nine-tenths of what I say) but I have made two rules in attempting to be both an intellectual and a man of honor simultaneously—that I do not tell myself lies that will be of value to myself, and secondly, I do not lie to myself.

1250 They went on to the party. It was a housewarming, with Hawaiian musicians in attendance, and the guests were largely of the old crowd. People who had been in the early Griffith pictures, even though they were scarcely thirty, were considered to be of the old crowd; they were different from those coming along now, and they were conscious of it.

1251 The combination of a desire for glory and an inability to endure the monotony it entails puts many people in the asylum. Glory comes from the unchanging din-din-din- of one supreme gift.

1252 France was a land, England was a people, but America, having about it still that quality of the idea, was harder to utter—it was the graves at Shiloh and the tired, drawn, nervous faces of its great men, and the country boys dying in the Argonne for a phrase that was empty before their bodies withered. It was a willingness of the heart.

1253 The real plot of all Little Theatre plays the one that transpires through whatever play they’re officially acting is how the young gosling actor of fourteen ever managed to be in love with the leading woman of forty and what’s going to come of the situation. The reality of this gives that blurred air that the performances always have.

1254 It is difficult for young people to live things down. We will tolerate vice, grand larceny and the quieter forms of murder in our contemporaries, because we think of ourselves as so strong and incorruptible, but our children’s friends must show a blank service record.

1255 What would you rather be loved for, your beauty, your intrinsic worth, your money?
First two vanish and are replaced by their equivalents, beauty and charm and tact spirituality and energy, by experience and intelligence. Third never knows any change.

1256 Why do whores have husky voices?

1257 After all, any given moment has its value; it can be questioned in the light of after-events, but the moment remains. The young princes in velvet gathered in lovely domesticity around the queen amid the hush of rich draperies may presently grow up to be Pedro the Cruel or Charles the Mad, but the moment of beauty was there.

1258 Perhaps that life is constantly renewed, and glamour and beauty make way for it.

1259 “A pair of thoroughbreds, those two,” said the other woman complacently, meaning that she admitted them to be her equals.

1260 Parallel of Zelda to me, and the hunter who got back the third time with lions.

1261 Family quarrels are bitter things. They don’t go according to any rules. They’re not like aches or wounds; they’re more like splits in the skin that won’t heal because there’s not enough material.

1262 One advantage of politeness is to be able to deal with women on their own grounds, to please or to torture the enemy, as it may prove necessary. And not to fire random shots and flowers from the pure male camp many miles away.

1263 It is in the thirties that we want friends. In the forties we know they won’t save us any more than love did.

1264 But the world is always curious, and people become valuable merely for their inaccessibility.

1265 You can usually scare a certain amount of brains into a woman but usually you can’t make them stick.

1266 Force of a proverb in another language.

1267 He felt then that if the pilgrimage eastward of the rare poisonous flower of his race was the end of the adventure which had started westward three hundred years ago, if the long serpent of the curiosity had turned too sharp upon itself, cramping its bowels, bursting its shining skin that at least there had been a journey; like to the satisfaction of a man coming to die—one of those human things that one can never understand unless one has made such a journey and heard the man give thanks with the husbanded breath. The frontiers were gone—there were no more barbarians. The short gallop of the last great race, the polyglot, the hated and the despised, the crass and scorned, had gone, at least it was not a meaningless extinction up an alley.

1268 Dispairingly and miserably, to what purpose neither knew, as people in fire save things they don’t want and have long disliked.

1269 Advantage of politeness. Extending out of ordinary world, etc.

1270 Actors the clue to much

1271 He had one of those minds so imconprehensible to the literary man which are illiterate not through insensibility but through the fact that the past and future are with them contemporary with the present, having no special value or pathos of their own.

1272 No learning without effort—educational movies.

1273 Each of us knows much more about us than you’d think to read the novels. Give you a few strong lines here says photographer, etc. Loss in dignity but—

1274 When we do something mean to a friend we think of it as an exception in our relations with them but as a matter of fact it has immediately become the type thing. We have just one time.

1275 My sometimes reading my own books for advice. How much I know sometimes—how little at others.

1276 This being in love is great—you get a lot of compliments and begin to think you’re a great guy.

1277 Very strong personalities must confine themselves in mutual conversation to very gentle subjects. Everything eventually transpired—but if they start at a high pitch as at the last meeting of Ernest, Bunny and me their meeting is spoiled. It does not matter who sets the theme or what it is.

1278 If you’re strong enough there are no precedents.

1279 Gertrude Harris about pleasure of giving. The excess.

1280 Didn’t finish idea today that lack of success of physical sheer power in my life made trouble. Fighting through intellectual power—parallel in life of modern woman— courage in Zelda, etc.

1281 They had a dignity and straightforwardness about them from the fact that they had worked in pictures before pictures were bathed in a golden haze of success. They were still rather humble before their amazing triumph, and thus, unlike the new generation, who took it all for granted, they were constantly in touch with reality. Half a dozen or so of the women were especially aware of being unique. No one had come along to fill their places; here and there a pretty face had caught the public imagination for a year, but those of the old crowd were already legends, ageless and disembodied. With all this they were still young enough to believe that they would go on forever.

1282 Large or small house. Foul or clean mouth.

1283 Like a bad play where there is nothing to do but pick out the actors that look most like real people and watch them until, like amateurs, their true existance has become speculatively interesting

1284 Something in his nature never got over things, never accepted his sudden rise to fame because all the steps weren’t there.

1285 Francis says he’s tired of a life like a full glass of water, relations with people a series of charades, you never do the whole world.

1286 Is snubbed when he dramatized himself as victim of American failure.

1287 De Sano—If you use both logic and imagination you can destroy everything in the world between them.

1288 Men hate to stay in hotel run by woman
Women vice versa

1289 The American capitol not being in New York was of enormous importance in our history. It had saved the Union from the mobs in sixty-three—but, on the other hand, the intellectual drifted to the Metropolis and our politics were childish from lack of his criticism.

1290 Each of us thinks his own life has been etc.

1291 Fairy can only stand young girls on stage, where they’re speaking other people’s lines.

1292 The laugh generated by Fred Stone’s I’m so nervous in the Wizard of Oz justified a whole generation into cultivating nerves.

1293 I’ve seen that everytime Zelda sees Egerova and me in contact, Egerova becomes gross to her. Apart the opposite happens.

1294 Subject of control-British pitch—from strength easy, from nervous effort hard therefore a moral question?
me etc.

1295 It seemed to her that the dance was woman’s interpretation of music; instead of strong fingers, one had limbs with which to render Tschaikowsky and Stravinski; and feet could be as eloquent in Chopiniana as voices in The Ring. At the bottom it was something sandwiched in between the acrobats and the trained seals; at the top it was Pavlova and art.

1296 To record one must be unwary.

1297 They would like to have been her, but not to have paid the price in self-control.

1298 Your first most typical figure in any new place turns out to be bluff or local nuisance.

1299 …retrospect to have a more enduring value of their own. Nights are their own fulfilment—we possess them and not their memory, save for certain nights that open out into a novel and startling dawn. But perhaps it is only that it is easier to remember afternoon.

1300 “They come over so the children can learn French,” said Abe gloomily. “Then they all just slip down through Europe like nails in a sack, until they stick out of it a little into the Mediterranean Sea.”

1301 I heard a child called Venice in movie theatre at night. First Michael Arlen generation. The sort of picture you’d expect, and it was night.

1302 I’ve notice that the children of other nations always seem precocious. That’s because the strange manners of their elders have caught our attention most and the children echo those manners enough to seem like their parents.

1303 Once a change of direction has begun, even though it’s the wrong one, it still tends to clothe itself as thoroughly in the appurtenances of Tightness as if it had been a natural all along.

1304 A large personality is built on such a structure that we scarcely realize its dimensions while it is being built; it keeps up its monstrous development, flinging out as many unaccountable commitments as the limbs on an octopus, growing until we scarcely recognize its shadow—so large has it become beyond that of ordinary people. Except we can recognize the dimensions of the shadow in the horizontal twilight of the coffin. It becomes such a valuable thing that it is a pity when it is killed, and those nature lovers among us should watch its growth; it is difficult to reproduce scientifically; and if allowed to die may not re-occur for many years.

1305 You and Seth can be radicals and show your children how you look in the bathtub, because you’re both so good, but people who really experiment with themselves find out that all the old things are true.

1306 My theory of partial arbitrary covering of skin as protection from cold—furred Dolmans, Roman shin guards, etc.

1307 “You can be nice to someone without falling into their arms” almost always means “You can be awful to somebody without their knowing it.”

1308 She never realized that whenever she mustered all the cold cruelty with which she could dominate, over the wide open sensitivity that she lived on but could never know—she never knew that later in a form of revenge, when his wounds were well, his sores closed, he would inevitably crush down on her with a pressure she could no more comprehend than his sensitivity; it contained the same elements—only his suffering was now made over into suffering for her—even more fatal for not being deliberate.

1309 She was plagued by the devastating small one—ring selfishness of some women for instance to her statement that a man had been on sentry duty all night she would oppose the fragment of truth that he had somewhere snatched two legitimate hours of sleep, and thus discredit his ability to take the punishment of a twenty-one hour day. This seems to be one of the last achievements women are likely to wrest from men, but having made the confusion of mere patience with work they are not inclined to surrender the point graciously.

1310 The word “manly” ruined by commercial use.

1311 On Operations—Being a soldier takes the life out of you, as was the experience of Philip Sidney; being a good poet removes or invalidates the nervous system, being a politician or statesman operates only on the conscience, and is as simple as the removal of the heart which too often goes with doctoring. The removal of the soul consonant on being a successful merchant is accomplished practically without pain.

1312 Idea that in the higher levels of human achievement writing Thalberg etc. difference is so slight etc.

1313 Awful disillusion of arriving at center of supposed authority and finding need of flattery so as to be reinforced in that authority.

1314 The grand triumph of the people who don’t care over the people who do—the well in the sick room, nurse over patient, doctor’s jokes, their exquisite attention (Forel) to my egotism, the advantage of the beloved over the lover, and the lender over the borrower but also the sponge over the softee.

1315 Personality precludes inspection by vis-a-vis.

1316 Wanting to mother a man—wanting to keep him from spending his money on some other woman.

1317 The words gentleman and lady only have a concise meaning to a person just learning to be one, or just having ceased to be one.

1318 A woman’s sense of men conspiring together and vice versa

1319 You can take your choice between God and Sex. If you choose both you’re a smug hypocrite, if the choose neither you get nothing.

1320 Fairies’ natures attempt to get rid of soft boys by sterilizing them.

1321 Some discussion of the facts that in general Haul bourgeousie training is so much more enlightened that more stuffed shirts survive. Esprit de Corps.
petite bourgeousie training is rougher and selects the fittest but proletarian training is the roughest of all, and has poorest education and least esprit de corps is hampered by race prejudices etc.

1322 Artistic temperament is like a king with vigour and unlimited opportunity. You shake the structure to pieces by playing with it.

1323 any given individual life or situation things progress from good toward less good. But life itself never does.

1324 Mankind has lived through three ideas (1) That the capacity for leadership is hereditary, (2) that the soul is immortal, (3) that he can govern as a mass and is fit and able to choose his leaders—and into a fourth i.e. that ethics are attractive in themselves.

1325 Zelda’s idea: the bad things are the same in everyone; only the good are different

1326 It is necessary to emphasize the individual differences between men. If you are high enough in the air you can’t even see the leader of the parade, sometimes you can’t even see the way it’s going—and it’s necessary to know. Al Capone

1327 Women took over political-religious thought, with their lack of education, their almost universal lack of knowledge of things as they are, and turned this delegated prerogative inward, cultivating all tendencies in children as individualism. This can best be looked at in the case of a conscious mother and a conscious son such as your mother and you, where the dead or senile grandfather was still the head of the family.

1328 Does anyone think an angel of God appeared to George Washington and suddenly informed him that if he gave up all the allegiances that he had in Virginia, and the entire caste to which he had been born, that he would become a model hero of all the school children of 1933?

1329 The very elements of disintegration seemed to him romantic—the vague unrest that went on back of the big tranquil lawn, the incessant small bickering that seemed to prove that in their magnificence they had no need of solidarity. Actually it meant that the old Millers having nothing to teach had taught their children no common good, having traded their Bavarian field-wisdom for a sort of wisdom that was current in the middle west twenty to forty years ago which was of no value at all. Evolved under one set of conditions, the settlement and development of the west, it seemed as academic to children growing up in a static city as the morals of the amurai.

1330 He was in the safety zone. In a man this is the period between twenty-four and twenty-eight, and however precarious for a man to rely upon and belied by marriage statistics, such a safety zone is a reality. At that age a good man will not mistake the wide-eyed attention of eighteen for the wisdom of thirty, nor forgive thirty for lacking the freshness of eighteen. Let it even be insisted upon—a bachelor of twenty-six in his right mind is not a serious prospect.

1331 Women’s continual reacting reacting reacting, almost to a point of self immolation, to forces that they haven’t caused and can’t do anything about.

1332 On such occasions as this, thought Scott as his eyes still sought casually for Yanci, occured the matings of the leftovers, the plainer, the culler, the poorer of the social world; matings actuated by the same urge toward perhaps a more glamorous destiny, yet for all that, less beautiful and less young. Scott himself was feeling very old.

1333 Learning of a word or place, etc. and then seeming to run across that word or place in your reading constantly in the next few weeks. Use as metaphor: “as when one” etc.

1334 You can stroke people with words

1335 Symington’s white gloves initiated by school

1336 Advantages of children whose mother is dead

1337 Weaknesses of medium point of view
(1) not attractive (2) always borne along in practise in the trial of extreme points of view, etc.

1338 A man being only the sum of his initials

1339 There are certain ribald stories that I heard at ten years old and never again, for I heard a new and more sophisticated set at eleven. Many years later I heard a ten year boy telling another one of those old stories and it occured to me that it had been handed on from one ten-year old generation to the next for an incalculable number of centuries. So with the set I learned at eleven. Each set of stories, like a secret ritual stays always within its age-class, never growing older because there is always a new throng of ten-year olds to learn them, and never growing stale because these same boys will forget them at eleven. One can almost believe that there is a conscious theory behind this unofficial education.

1340 The easiest way to get a reputation is to go outside the fold, shout around for a few years as a violent atheist or a dangerous radical, and then crawl back to shelter. The fatted calf is killed for Spargo, Papini, Chesterton, and Henry Arthur Jones. There is a bigger temporary premium put on losing your nerve in this regard than in any other.

1341 When men agree on a subject of controversy, they love to tell or listen to personal stories that seem to strengthen their side of the question. They laugh delightedly and enjoy a warm feeling that the case is won.

1342 His mind full of the odd ends of all he had read, dim tracings of thoughts whose genesis was already far away when (their dim carbons) reached his ears.

1343 The reason morons can stand good entertainment is that they don’t like to understand all the time. Like a nurse or child at a sophisticated lunch table. Something they could follow all through is a stirring nervous experience for them. Through a good picture they can drowse—as morons always drowse mentally through great events.

1344 Fifty years ago we Americans substituted melodrama for tragedy, violence for dignity under suffering. That became a quality that only women were supposed to exhibit in life or fiction—so much so that there are few novels or biographies in which the American male tangled in an irreconcilable series of contradictions is considered as anything but an unresourceful and cowardly weakwad.

1345 Nora’s wit. Pleasure—Elsa. Happiness—Nora.

1346 All the sucks on the Astor and Whitney fortunes.

1347 Time marches on—ruthlessly—until the Russians tried to replace their artists and scientists—then time stood still and only the pendulum functioned.

1348 Rockefeller Center:
That it all came out of the chicaneries of a dead racketeer.

1349 I can watch a cigarette burn, like Esquire’s streamlines. Charley Petty’s lines are all from a cigarette, even the hair where the smoke breaks.

1350 Never noticed Mother’s eyes after living with her 20 years. Mrs. O. says they are like mine. Example of observation when I don’t like to look at her.

1351 Like all “final”people—judges, doctors, great artists, etc.

1352 You began by pretending to be kind (politeness). It pays so well that it becomes second nature. Some people like Jews can’t get past the artificiality of the first step.

1353 That Zelda’s illness has wrecked our lives is no more important than the fact that it has cast a dark shadow over Mrs. Sayre’s mature years.

1354 When people get mixed up, they try to throw out a sort of obscuring mist, and then the sharp shock of a fact—a collision! seems to be the only thing to make them sober-minded again.

1355 The luxuriance of your emotions under the strict discipline, which you habitually impose on them, makes that tensity in you that is the secret of all charm—when you let that balance become disturbed, don’t you become just another victim of self-indulgence?—breaking down the solid things around you and, moreover making yourself terribly vulnerable.

1356 But scratch a Yale man with both hands and you’ll be lucky to find a coast-guard. Usually you find nothing at all. Or else eleven bought iron men and 3000 ninnies. God preserve you from that vaccuum foundry!

1357 There is this to be said for the Happy Ending: that the healthy man goes from love to love.

1358 Reversion to childhood typical of the only child.

1359 Nine girls out of ten can stand good looks without going to pieces though only one boy out of ten ever comes out from under them.

1360 American farmer as a fighter comes of desperate stock as well as adventurous.

1361 Remember that women are ostriches about themselves; and that all men—and by this I mean every man, will tell everything, and usually more, within three months from date. Remember the daughter of Col. who owned the Charles St. Apt. I heard her story long before she’d left Baltimore.

1362 I left my capacity for hoping on the little roads that led to Zelda’s sanitarium.

1363 There’s quite a case for self-pity—save for that, I’d long ago have died of pitying you.

1364 But I am always guilty of an irreverent snort when I think of Cardinal Parker’s “Hymn to Old Money Bags”. What the rest of the Service must have been like in his nimble ecclesiastical hands would require a more hilarious pen than mine.

1365 You could tell a St. Mark’s boy by his table manners. You see they ate with the servants while their parents divorced and remarried.

1366 Some men have a necessity to be mean as if they were exercising a faculty which they had to partially neglect since early childhood.

1367 In the beginning we are the split and splintered pieces of the basket in which we are all contained. At the end the basket, turned upside down has become a haystack in which we search for our own smooth identity—as if it had ever existed.

1368 Remember this—if you shut your mouth you have your choice.

1369 The flapper never really disappeared in the twenties— she merely dropped her name, put on rubber heels and worked in the dark.

1370 The tackles good or bad are a necessary fact in life. The Tiger Inn Type little nervous system, Dickinson, McGraw, etc. Their recognition of each other.

1371 I understand Duke has a beautiful shell—the tobacco workers who were sweated for it at sixty cents a day can see it in the rotogravures—I notice that the Atlantic Monthly voted it 127th among American colleges in Faculty and Courses. They play professional football with hired truck-drivers and win great victories.

1372 About finding I am not a rational type, finding it in Hollywood, I mean, in script writing. How every director must be, for instance.

1373 Justification of happy ending. My father and Oscar Wilde born in the same year. One ruined at 40—one “happy” at 70. So Becky and Amelia are in fact true.

1374 A precociously tough boy makes jokes like old man. Like say (referring to 20 years ago) “So you laughed at me, eh?” Utterly safe kidding of people who don’t want to hurt or be hurt.

1375 I believe what Zelda believed about her family until the wheels of her bicycle began to run backward.

1376 Beginnings of a bad education—when from Myers Ancient History and concentrated attention on Roman Columns I assumed that was standard and solid and indicative of mind and taste—and therefore was puzzled years later when Western bank architecture was deserted for more modern forms.

1377 I looked back at old pictures and thought of what you told me at Palm Beach and how it opened a window. There was an elaborate self-consciousness about our seduction which told of deep intuition that you were playing a role, though any one track mind didn’t choose to notice it, and I should have guessed that it wasn’t Paul Lagrand or anyone casual from your first story THE MAGNOLIA TREE—guessed there had been old emotional experience for you had learned to feel before I did.

1378 I didn’t have the two top things—great animal magnetism or money. I had the two second things, tho’, good looks and intelligence. So I always got the top girl.

1379 I wonder if it has been remarked by historians that the “final” victor for the Germany hegemony was a Hapsburg and not a Hohenzollern leader, Hitler the Austrian not Hindenburg the Prussian.

1380 In 1908 our Pacific and Carribbean adventures were as romantic as the G-Men exploits of today.

1730 You could paint Lenin’s face inside every backhouse in Iowa and not make him any more important than the phallic quatrain of the Chromo Christ. You might just manage to make him as important to the young as Santa Clause.

1736 Not like the travel folders—not enough Gables and Powells to go around. For romance, the patrons of the 1,000 Rivieras went to the movies.

1748 Paralyzed troups of beggars like the Salvation Army can beat the Y.M.C.A.

1757 One man only felt suffering as with his fingers felt its rough shape. Another seemed to hold it against his cheek.

1766 Of course, these boys are more serious—this is the generation that saw their mothers drunk.

1769 It is the custom now to look back ourselves of the boom days with a disapproval that approaches horror. But it had its virtues, that old boom: Life was a great deal larger and gayer for most people, and the stampede to the spartan virtues in times of war and famine shouldn’t make us too dizzy to remember its hilarious glory. There were so many good things. These eyes have been hallowed by watching a man order champagne for his two thousand guests, by listening while a woman ordered a whole staircase from the greatest sculptor in the world, by seeing a man tear up a good check for eight hundred thousand dollars.

1787 No connection at all between being right and being attractive. The French, the Communists, etc. The answer, of course, is “bread alone”.

1792 The value of culture. Ecclesiastes, the freethinker of the bible, said one of the most erroneous remarks that there was no new thing under the sun, because he hadn’t traveled to Athens in space or Kitty Hawk in time.

(P) Proper Names

1381 A grand duke—“Jimber-jawed Serge.”
Name: Umphadel Piluski
Gangster Salve Spitale—Saliva Spit.
Gooshoofenstein Von Beasinghausen
Meglomania McCarthy
English clubman named Cumbersom
Names Lee Spurgeon, Stoner, Mortimer, Flieshhacker, Henry P. Jacques. Borre.
Bryon Appledeck
Name for movie house “What’s at the Dementia?”
Mr. Schlchgd from Notre Dame in novel.
Beauty boy Johnston
Name Howya Bartlett
Joe Crusoe
Hummer for name
The Marquise de la Close d’Hirondelle
Tookey Ledoux
Harry Fantum
George Gratteciel
Marylyn Miller Swann, Sherlock Holmes Swann
Futility Trust Company
Name of “La Paix” changed to “Thropaca”
Grandfather called Mo’papa

1382 Names: Queer Justice. Pennsylvania Colman...
Helen’s name—Novida Veronica Helen Conway
Prince Khnumba-ef
Nuts Vandernut
Darky Dolittle

1383 …was named for the once celebrated star of the Pink Lady, perpetuated her in dark mountainous flesh.

1384 Jim Bob

1385 Psychiatric sequence of nicknames;
Sap—Lawrenceville names. Owen J. Goopher
Andrew’s Dusa
Missy Owens.

1386 Name Luna Gineva.

Olsie, Hassie, Goba, Bleba, Onza, (Ozma—my own), Retha, Otella, Tatrina, Delphia, Wedda, Zannis, Avaline, Burtryce, Chalme, Glenola, Turla, Verlie, Legitta, Navilla, Oha, Verla, Blooma, Inabeth, Versia, Gomeria, Valaria, Berdine, Olabeth, Adelloyd.

Glee, Earvial, Aeiral, Roayna, Margerilla, Parolee, Ferdiliga, Abolena, Iodine, Tooa, Negolna.

1389 NAME: Tycoonskins

1731 “Nigger” name: “Brunell Massey”.

(R) Rough Stuff

1390 My mind is the loose cunt of a whore, to fit all genitals.

1391 His bowels, heavy with the night’s catch groaned out new scenes.

1392 A man giving up the idea of himself as a hero. Perhaps picking his nose in a can.

1393 You can’t take the son of a plough manufacturer, clip off his testicles and make an artist of him.

1394 “Did you ever see squirrels yincing?” he asked her suddenly.

1395 Scenario hacks having removed all life from a story substituting the stink of life—a fart, a loose joke, a dirty jeer. How they do it.

1396Apology to Ogden Nash:
Every California girl has lost at least one ovary
And none of them has read Madame Bovary.

(S) Scenes and Situations

1397 “Did you ever read the books of Phillips Oppenheim?”
“I think I’ve read one.”
“He’s one of my favorite American writers,” Tommy said simply. “He writes about the Riviera, you know. I don’t know whether the things he writes about are true but this place is like that.”
Standing before the gate they were suddenly bathed in a small floodlight, quick as a flashlight, that left them blinded for a moment. Then a voice from behind the gate.
“Who’s this, please?”
“Tell Monsieur Irv that it’s Monsieur Tommy. Tell him we can’t come in the house, but can he come out in the garden a minute.”
A section of the gate rumbled open like a safe and they were in a park, following a young Italo-American dandy toward a lighted house. They waited just out of range of the porch light, and presently the door opened and a dark thin man of forty came out and gazed blindly.
“Where you, Tommy?”
“Down here. Don’t come. I have a lady with me who wants to remain anonymous.”
“I’ve got a lady with me who doesn’t want to be seen— like you.”
“Oh, I unestand, I unestand.”
“We want to swim. Anybody on the beach?”
“Nobody, nobody. Go ahead, Tommy. You want suits, towels?”
“All right, some towels. Nodoby’s going to come down, are they?”
“No, no, nobody. Say, did you see Du Pont de Nemours went up—”
“No stock market in the presence of ladies.”
“All right, excuse me, lady. You wait now—Salve will take you down—don’t want you to get in trouble.”
As Irv re-entered the house Tommy said, “Probably he’s phoning the machine gunner to pass us. He was a fellow townsman of yours in Chicago—now he has the best beach on the Riviera.”
Curiously Nicole followed down an intricate path, then through a sliding steel door that operated like a guillotine, out into a roofless cavern of white moonlight, formed by pale boulders about a cup of phosphorescent waters. It faced Monaco and the blur of Mentone beyond. She likes his taste in bringing her here—from the high­handed storming of Mr. Irv’s fortress.
Then, starting back the lane by which they had come Tommy tripped over a wire and a faint buzzer sounded far away.
“My God!” he excalimed, “that a man should have to live like this!”
“Is he afraid of burglars?”
“He’s afraid of your lovely city and came here with a bodyguard of a dozen monkeys—is that the right slang? Maybe Al Capone is after him. Anyhow he has one period between being drunk and being sober when he is very nice.”
He broke off as again they were momentarily bathed in the ubiquitous spotlight. Then amber lamps glowed on the porch of the castellated villa and Mr. Irv, this time supported by the very neat young man, came out unsteadily.
“I kept them off the beach, Tommy,” he announced.
“Thank you, very much.”
“Won’t you both change your minds and come in? In greatest confidence. I have some other ladies here.” He raised his voice as if to address Nicole. “As you are a lady of background you will like ’em.”
“It’s four o’clock,” said Tommy. “We have to get to our background. Good night.”
Irv’s voice followed them.
“You never make a mistake having to do with a lady.”

1398 The soft swaying gowns that for a moment seemed to be the gowns of people that had waited for Jeb Stuart and the gallant Pelham to ride in out of the night; all the people there seemed to have for a moment that real quality which women have when they know that men are going toward death, and maybe will get there, and maybe not.

1399 Sir Francis Elliot, King George, the barley water and champagne.

1400 The big toy banks with candles inside that were really the great fashionable hotels, the lighted clock in the old town, the blurred glow of the Cafe de Paris, the pricked-out points of villa windows rising on slow hills toward the dark sky.
“What is everyone doing there?” she whispered. “It looks as though something gorgeous was going on, but what it is I can’t quite tell.”
“Everyone there is making love,” said Val quietly.

1401 Blind man’s buff and fiancee with no chin.

1402 Then he took a long breath and held it in him for an unnaturally long time. Then, quick and graceful, he died.

1403 Colored woman and dead Jewish baby.

1404 “Nothing to hang on to. No bridle—nothing. I’d like to be able to carry a swagger stick; fans break when you get too nervous.”

1405 The orchestra was playing a Wiener Waltzer, and suddenly she had the sensation that the chords were extending themselves that each bar of three-four time was bending in the middle, dropping a little and thus drawing itself out, until the waltz itself, like a phonograph running down, became a torture.

1406 She feared the black cone hanging from the metal arm, shrilling and shrilling across the sunny room. It stopped for a minute, replaced by her heartbeats; then began again.

1407 She stood there in the middle of an enormous quiet. The pursuing feet that had thundered in her dream had stopped. There was a steady, singing silence.

1408 Scottie presenting the garbage can and her proprietary interest.

1409 The day in Annecy village the first time when Zelda went shopping by herself and I watched from the hotel johnny.

1410 Diabolic death scene: “Give ’em the cigar.” (a high explosive greased time bomb shoved up the rectum mat couldn’t be extracted).

1411 Bunny Burgess episode of glass and wife.

1412 The realization came to her that the tracks of life would never lead anywhere and were like tracks of the airplane; that of their plan no one knew it; if they were tracked with no particular Daniel Boone to hack trees; that the world had to go on and that it wasn’t going to be inside her, there still had to be these tracks. It was an awful lonesome journey.

1413 Perhaps that slate we looked at once that was all the grey blue we’d ever know in life—where the dark brown tide receded, the slate came. It was indescribable as the dress beside him (the color of hours of a long human day)—blue like misery, blue for the shy-away from happiness, “If I could that shade everything would be all right forever...” Touch it? Touch.

1414 The opera singer and the pekinese in the taxi, “I did that.”

1415 For me an unhappy day on the Riviera. 1926
The bouillabaisse.
The Baby gar.
(Marice—the 1st Peter Arno cartoons about Hic and Whoops.)
Who would save the weakest swimmer.
(The quarrel.)
Isolation of two in end of boat.
Gerald and Walker at Ville Franche
Archie and the oar on my eyebrow.
The swim au natural, but not.

1416 Lefty’s psychiatry story: the bars, the barbers, the home, the pool balls, the hair combing, the slugs of vanilla and grain, etc. The printer and Lefty’s being willing to sharpen the axe. The fake escape and coaxing.

1417 The man addressed took the jug slung from the leader’s belt. But the concussion that Philippe had suffered was clearing. To his horse he whispered in one of those half-heard sentences that can be said only to very young children and to animals—“Don’t fail me now. I’m going to lean against your neck and if you move a foot I fall. I’ll do as much for you sometime.”
The horse stabilized himself and, propped against him Philippe, who drew a breath, could even see; and with a second deep breath he could see as far as the horse’s haunch. Then he could see as far as the nose of the Duke’s horse; then the ribs of the Duke’s horse were interrupted by something that presently became the Duke’s stirrup. His eyes, clinging to it, found their way upward as if they were climbing a rope—found their way to other eyes, as hard and brown as his own.

1418 Didn’t evenings sometimes end on a high note and not fade out vaguely in bars? After ten o’clock every night she felt she was the only real being in a colony of ghosts, that she was surrounded by utterly intangivle figures who retreated whenever she stretched out her hand.

1419 When he gets sober for six months and can’t stand any of the people he’s liked when drunk.

1420 The two young men could only groan and play sentimental music on the phonograph, but presently they departed; the fire leaped up, day went out behind the windows, and Forrest had rum in his tea.

1421 Josephine Baker’s chocolate arabesques. Chorus from her show.

1422 In front of the shops in the Rue de Castiglione, proprietors and patrons were on the sidewalk gazing upward, for the Graf Zeppelin, shining and glorious, symbol of escape and destruction—of escape, if necessary, through destruction—glided in the Paris sky. He heard a woman say in French that it would not her astonish if that commenced to let fall the bombs. (Not funny now—1939)

1423 Why didn’t they back away? Why didn’t they back right up, walking backward down the Rue de Castiglione, across the Rue de Rivole, through the Tuileries Gardens, still walking backward as fast as they could till they grew vague and faded out across the river?

1424 Almost at once Josephine realized that everybody there except herself was crazy. She knew it incontrovertibly, although the only person of outward eccentricity was a robust woman in a frock coat and gray morning trousers. Their frightened eyes lifted to the young girl’s elegent clothes, her confident, beautiful face, and they turned from her rudely in self-protection.

1425 “Well, what do you want do do?”
“Kiss you.”
A spasm of timidity quickly controlled went over her face.
“I’m all dirty.”
“Don’t you kiss people when you’re all dirty?”
“I don’t kiss people. I’m just before that generation. We’ll find you a nice young girl you can kiss.”
“There aren’t any nice young girls—you’re the only one I like.”
“I’m not nice. I’m a hard woman.”

1426 The woman who snatched her children away on the boat just to be exclusive—exclusive from what.

1427 “Tell that Spic to go count his piasters and I’ll talk turkey with you.”
She bestowed upon the puzzled darkling a healing smile.
“You won’t mind, honey, if I sit this out? See you later.”
When he had departed Tommy protested, “ ’Honey!’ Do you call him ’Honey?’ Why don’t you call him ’greasy?’ “
She laughed sweetly.
“Where you been?”
“Skiing. But every time I go away, that doesn’t mean you can go dance with a whole lot of gigolo numbers from Cairo. Why does he hold his hand parallel to the floor when he dances? Does he think he’s stilling the waves? Does he think the floor’s going to swing up and crack him?”
“He’s a Greek, honey.”

1428 A small car, red in color and slung at that proximity to the ground which indicated both speed of motion and speed of life. It was a Blatz Wildcat. Occupying it, in the posture of aloof exhaustion exacted by the sloping seat, was a blond, gay, baby-faced girl.

1429 They floated off, immediately entering upon a long echoing darkness. Somewhere far ahead a group in another boat were singing, their voices now remote and romantic, now nearer and yet more mysterious, as the canal doubled back and the boats passed close to each other with an invisible veil between. The continual bump-bump of the boat against the wooden sides. They slid into a red glow—a stage set of hell, with grinning demons and lurid paper fires—then again into the darkness, with the gently lapping water and the passing of the singing boat now near, now far away.

1430 He paused speculatively to vault the high hydrant in front of the Van Schellinger house, wondering if one did such things in long trousers and if he would ever do it again.

1431 “Do away with yourself,” he demanded, startled, “You? Why on earth—”
“Oh, I’ve almost done it twice. I get the horrors— usually when something goes wrong with my art. Once they said I fell in the bathtub when I only jumped in, and another time somebody closed a window before I could get to it.”
“You ought to be careful.”
“I am careful. I keep a lady with me always—but she couldn’t come East because she was going to be married.”

1432 Laughed with a sudden memory of Hopkins where going to a party he had once tried taking gin by rectum, and the great success it had been until the agony of passing great masses of burned intestine.

1433 Sending orchestra second rate champagne—never, never do it again.

1434 Gerald walking Paris.

1435 Once in his room and reassured by the British stability of them, the ingenuity of the poor asserted itself. He began literally to wind himself up in his clothes. He undressed, put on two suits of underwear and over that four shirts and two suits of clothes, together with two white pique vests. Every pocket he stuffed with ties, socks, studs, gold-backed brushes and a few toilet articles. Panting audibly, he struggled into an overcoat. His derby looked empty, so he filled it with collars and held them in place with some handkerchiefs. Then, rocking a little on his feet, he regarded himself in the mirror
He might possibly manage it—if only a steady stream of perspiration had not started to flow from somewhere up high in the edifice and kept pouring streams of various temperatures down his body, until they were absorbed by the heavy blotting paper of three pairs of socks that crowded his shoes.
Moving cautiously, like Tweedle-dum before the battle, he traversed the hall and rang for the elevator. The boy looked at him curiously, but made no comment, though another passenger made a dry reference to Admiral Byrd. Through the lobby he moved, a gigantic figure of a man. Perhaps the clerks at the desk had a subconscious sense of something being wrong, but he was gone too quickly for them to do anything about it.
“Taxi, sir?” the doorman inquired, solicitous at Val’s pale face.
Unable to answer, Val tried to shake his head, but this also proving impossible, he emitted a low negative groan. The sun was attracted to his bulk as lightning is attracted to metal, as he staggered out toward a bus. Up on top, he thought; it would be cooler up on top.
His training as a hall-room boy stood him in good stead now; he fought his way up the winding stair as if it had been the social ladder. Then, drenched and suffocating, he sank down upon a bench, the bourgeois blood of many Mr. Joneses pumping strong in his heart. Not for Val to sit upon a trunk and kick his heels and wait for the end; there was fight in him yet.

1436 Hannan married into a family of boarding house aristocrats in Charleston and they didn’t like him. But outside of Charleston their prestige depended on him so that they took it out in mild abuse. There was a coast guard officer in the family that was always going to jump down his throat with a loaded revolver. When his wife broke down the father used to go to the hospital and after getting his prestige with the doctors from poor Hannan’s shows he’d tear into him. Hannan ducking around Europe at the time sleeping with chambermaids and raising hell on the quiet generally. Jesus Christ, he used to say, they climb up on your shoulders and then pull your nose.

1437 Ernest taking me to that bum restaurant. Change of station implied.

1438 Doll from window.

1439 A lot of young girls together is a romantic secret thing like the first sight of wild ducks at dawn (enlarge— Hotel Don Cesare at pink dawn—the gulf.)

1440 Kiddies’ Children Hour—Kiddies, I’d be the last one to ask you to begin smoking before say, six, but remember we are in the depths of a depression—depth of a gepression from four to six through the courtesy of Amer. Cig. Co.—and you represent a potential market of forty million smokers.

1441 Moving picture scene where he infuriates people on beach trying to take picture after they’ve persuaded him to do it.

1442 The city had been merely an unfamiliar rhythm persisting outside the windows of an American Express Hotel, with days composed of such casual punctuation marks as going for the mail or taking auto rides that did not go back and forth but always in a circle.

1443 The rejection slips

1444 Soviet meeting
Looking at apartment—wife drops in from next room

1445 Mr. Slade and my father

1446 Dogs appraising buildings

1447 runs into again and again without ever being able to remember his name.

1448 A taxi tipping over on a nervous night.

1449 Throwing away jewelry, burning clothes.

1450 Hypochronia—man thinks of thing at last moment— ostensibly an extra thing—yet that settles an affair that otherwise would have wrecked the whole thing.

1451 Jack Straw carried off screaming “I didn’t want to sing the damn thing anyhow.” (amateur theatricals)

1452 Dog ate up Buttercup’s sausages (amateur theatricals)

1453 Beanpole as Buttercup (amateur theatricals)

1454 The pathos of “Now I am Complete.”

1455 Unable to raise hands to fight.

1456 The stout man registered from Warsaw bent over a copy of the “Zuricher Nachrichten;” the big young American with the long pompadour and the flashing eyes spied him from the elevator and after a moment of thought, during which his eyes became almost imperceptible, came boldly over to the periodical table. He pawed through the magazines as if looking for something and meanwhile kept muttering aloud but as if to himself.
“Mr. Goldgarten from Warsaw. Huh! Maybe.” He spoke the name reproachfully and insultingly but the stout man, though he was scarcely five feet away and couldn’t have helped hearing, bent over his magazine as phlegmatically as a house detective. For a moment Frank Forrester was stumped and then driven on by the resourceful character which had probably accrued to his name “Frank Forrester in a Velicopter,” “Frank Forrester in a Chinese Junk” during the eighteen years of his life, took a more determined step. Staring at a copy of the Tatler he said in a loud clear voice:
“We’re getting a little tired of spies and we think we’ve seen that face before.”
Still not a word from Mr. Goldgarten, commercial traveller from Warsaw. For a moment Frank Forrester— “Frank Forrester on the Matterhorn,” Frank Forrester with Byrd at the South Pole,”—contemplated a further and even bolder step but at this point his cousin Emily, accompanied by that fellow McLane, came in the hotel door. Frank went over to them.

1457 She told him a wonderful plot she had for a “scenario,” and then repeated to him the outline of The Miracle Man. He gave her the address of Joe Gibney in Hollywood as someone who might be interested. Joe was the studio bootlegger. Perhaps she suspected his evasion for now she cast him an angry glance and whispered to her companions. She would go to his next six pictures to see if he had stolen her idea.

1458 Reformation of Hutchins

1459 The Jew in the Meadowbrook Club

1460 Grande Poisson scene.

1461 In the corner a huge American negro with his arms around a lovely French tart, roared a song to her in a rich beautiful voive and suddenly Melarky’s Tennessee instincts were remembered and aroused.

1462 Phone ringing at Emily’s.

1463 Memory of taking a a pee commencement night

1464 The heart Burst

1465 They had passed the time in making a collection of sticks and stones that “would do for things.” They had found a stick somewhat like a comb and another one somewhat like a toothbrush. They had two stones that would make a nice book rack if they had only had books, and a stone that would dplendidly as an ash tray, when they had some ashes. They had also created a china closet by laying out fifty odd sections of cocoanuts in even rows.
Donald regarded the exhibit impatiently and took out his notebook.
“We’ve got to get some system. We’ll make a list of things in the order of their importance. Now the first thing is—”
“A good inexpensive brush and comb,” suggested Vivian.
“If I could have a doll,” said Kitty, hopefully.

1466 The missing raft hurried desolately before a light wind with its sail tied, until the rotten canvas suddenly split and shred away. When night came it went off on its own again, speeding along the dark tide as if driven by a ghostly propeller.

1467 Scene equivalent to my last afternoon with Gerald, for benefit of two women. Portentousness.

1468 Man fascinated by girl finds she’s showing off for someone else.

1469 Chauffer trying vainly to photo and preserve that group, his triumph

1470 Then Frances Daniels—Anna Biggs lack of taste on my part in referring to dead child.

1471 How I scared away a customer from the Hotel de la Paix

1472 Use about playing old tunes only at dance

1473 Bootlegger and pas de bure

1474 Scene at dinner when Frenchman, pretending to criticize American life in general is really critisizing Francis, who repeats experiences of race.

1475 The problem as to whether it was a duty or a favor when she helped the English nurse down the steps with the perambulator. The English nurse always said “Please,” and “Thanks very much,” but Dolores hated her and would have liked without any special excitement to beat her insensible. Like most Latins under the stiumlus of American life, she had irresistible impulses toward violence.

1476 suddenly contemplated having a love affair with him. She looked at herself several times in the pantry mirror and stood close to him as she poured his coffee, but he read the paper and she saw that that was all for the morning.

1477 Jules had dark circles under his eyes. Yesterday he had closed out the greatest problem of his life by settling with his ex-wife for two hundred thousand dollars. He had married too young and the former slavey from the Quebec slums had taken to drugs upon her failure to rise with him. Yesterday, in the presence of lawyers, her final gesture had been to smash his finger with the base of a telephone.

1478 It was a cold winter for Tarleton, Georgia—the coldest in four hundred years. Old Black Great-Uncle Salambo said so and, as he was the only man left alive who had resided in Tarleton in 1524, no one around Tilly’s garage ventured to dispute him.
“Reckon I’ll take my body-servant and run down to Palm Beach for the season. You got any golf sticks?” he remarked after a minute, “an’ couple old golf balls?”
Mrs. Tilly laughed.
“Dan Webster,” he called to his helper, “Jim Powell here wants to practice up on golf. Get him a monkey-wrench and a couple of ball bearings.”
“Got to buy me a parasol,” continued Jim; “You know where I can get me a nice big red and white parasol— so’s I can stick it up in the sand?”

1479 There was a Malay junk with a crew of four men praying for death, that had been blown off the Caroline Islands a week before; it revenged their wretched fate by drifting across the Aeolia’s bow on the night of the first of June. The junk went down in half a minute, the Aeolia, listing slowly to starboard, took well over two hours.

1480 Before her eyes would pass in turn a prodigious, prodigal Latin American, or a lady whose title blazed with history or that almost mythological figure, an international banker, or even a great Hollywood star with her hat pulled down over her face lest it be apparent that no one recognized her—all these being great figures to her—and Dick would say something kind, really kind, about them and they would recede out of the far vista as a stark naked Argentine, a stuffed chemise of the society column, Dinah’s uncle, or an actress pleased to see Seth—when we really possessed him, when he preferred us.

1481 That scene from Bridal Party where Powell accuses man of being unhappy with girl.

1482 English Scene (Bijou)
Brazilian’s departure

1483 “I’m pretty tired,” he said—unfortunately, because this gave her an advantage: she wasn’t tired; while his mind and body moved in a tedious half time like a slow moving picture, her nerves were crowded with feverish traffic. She tried to think of some mischief.

1484 Percy Pyne in the limousine at Meadowbrook, getting as small as the man he was arguing with

1485 Scene toward end of demenagement distressing amount of good, five phonographs, eight pairs of dark glasses, wasteful reduplication, etc.

1486 During the ride the young man held his attention cooly away from his mother, unwilling to follow her eyes in any direction or even to notice his surroundings except when at a revealing turn the sky and sea dropped before them, he said, “It’s hot as hell,” in a decided voice.

1487 She sat down on the water closet with a coquettish smile. Her eyes, glazed a few minutes since, were full of impish malice.

1488 “I did say that, but I explained to you that waiting is just part of the picture business. Everybody’s so much overpaid that when something finally happens you realize that you were making money all the time. The reason it’s slow is because one man’s keeping it all in his head, and fighting the weather and the actors and accidents—”
Francis looked at her, without anger now, but also without pity. She had long lost all power of moving him, yet he responded automatically to old stimuli and now he put his arm around her shoulders.

1489 “I would like to enjoy,” said the man, “but I can only hope and remember. What the hell—leave me my reactions even though they’re faint beside yours. Let me see things my own way.”
“You mean you don’t want me to talk?”
“I mean we come up here and before I can register, before I can realise that this is the Atlantic Ocean, you’ve analyzed it like a chemist, like a chemist who painted, or a painter who studied chemistry, and it’s all diminished and I say ’Yes it does remind me of a delicatessen shop—’”
“Let you alone—”

1490 He lived his life then, as an honored man. But from time to time he would indulge his habit of eating mountain grass in preference to valley grass, a habit formed during those early days outside the herd.
“Oke!” said the herd.
Some of them would watch his curious munching and shake their heads. Some of them, though, grouped together and said: “If we eat that grass that will make us honored like him.”
They tried it and it had the negative result of such follies.

1491 “Why, she’s your wife—I can’t imagine touching your wife.” Having heard this said to a husband ten minutes before the most passionate attempts to maneuver the wife into bed.

1492 He ran a low fever that evening and the mosquito netting bound him down into a little stifling space. But the morning was fresh and fair and he remembered that with a little vigilance there is seldom the necessity of being alone with oneself.

1493 He got up suddenly, stumbling through the shrubbery, and followed an almost obliterated path to the house, starting at the whirring sound of a blackbird which rose out of the grass close by. The front porch sagged dangerously at his step as he pushed open the door. There was no sound inside, except the steady slow throb of silence;

1494 Trip to Virginia

Tuesday—Off for Buffalo. The plan. Aquilla. Harper’s Ferry. The Haynie family. The tourist place any my room. Curtains and drapes. John Haynie. Night at Harrisonburg Hotel (?)
Wednesday—Calling home from Staunton. Rest in Charlottesville. Locating Lee. The garden that night. The campus in afternoon. The President. Impressions of University. Getting liquor. Cashing check. Over the gap in Blue Ridge this this day. The blow-out. The view. The nickel machine.
Thursday— The reporter. Lunch with Lawrence Lee. Phoning him. Another check. The gallant Pelham. My remarks on dif­ference between real and fake writing. J. E. Thomason and old men. Dinner in Warrenton. Calling Mrs. R. Night in Alexandria. The tough people. ?ame
Friday— The Communist. Arrival home.

1495 The Court reporter scene in garden.

1496 “Let’s not talk about such things now. I’ll tell you something funny instead.” Her look was not one of eager anticipation but he continued, “By merely looking around you can review the largest battalion of the Boys I’ve seen collected in one place. This hotel seems to be a clearing house for them—” He returned the nod of a pale and shaky Georgian who sat down at a table across the room, “That young man looks somewhat retired from life. The little devil I came down to see is hopeless. You’d like him—if he comes in I’ll introduce him.”
As he was speaking the flow into the bar began. Nicole’s fatigue accepted Dick’s ill-advised words and mingled with the fantastic Koran that presently appeared. She saw the males gathered down at the bar, the tall gangling ones, the little pert ones with round thin shoulders, the broad ones with the faces of Nero and Oscar Wilde, or of senators—faces that dissolved suddenly into girlish fatuity, or twisted into leers—the nervous ones who hitched and twitched, jerking open their eyes very wide, and laughed hysterically, the handsome, passive and dumb men who turned their profiles this way and that, the pimply stodgy men with delicate gestures; or the raw ones with very red lips and frail curly bodies, their shrill voluble tones piping their favorite word “treacherous” above the hot volume of talk; the ones over-self-conscious who glared with eager politeness toward every noise; among them were English types with great racial self-control. Balkan types, one small cooing Siamese. “I think now,” Nicole said, “I think I’m going to bed.”
“I think so too.”
—Goodby, you unfortunates. Goodby, Hotel of Three Worlds.

1497 She began building up a legend. She was a “gun moll” and the whole trip had been a frame to get Mr. Ives into the hands of the mob.

1498 Owning a little of New York by 1815 patent

1499 In a moving automobile sat a southern gentleman accompanied by his body-servant. He was on his way, after a fashion, to New York but he was somewhat hampered by the fact that the upper and lower portions of his automobile were no longer in exact juxtaposition. In fact from time to time the two riders would dismount, shove the body on to the chassis, corner to corner, and then continue onward, vibrating slightly in involuntary unison with the motor.

1500 Only a few apathetic stags gathered one by one in the doorways, and to a close observer it was apparent that the scene did not attain the gayety which was its aspiration. These girls and men had known each other from childhood; and though there were marriages incipient upon the floor tonight, they were marriages of enviornment, of resignation, or even of boredom.

1501 Old woman and lost Atlantis

1502 For drunkard chapter—Variation in rules of courtesy, because people have changed. Bottle not sent out. Can’t call. Gerald and I—the Montgomery boy and I. The man dancing with Scottie.

1503 The “Ickle durl” bored him. She admired him; she was used to clasping her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs. When the music stopped he gave her an outrageous compliment to atone for his preoccupation and left her at her table.

1504 As he dressed for dinner he realized that he wanted them both. It was an outrage that he couldn’t have them both. Wouldn’t a girl rather have half of him than all of Harry Whitby, or a whole Spic with a jar of pomade thrown in? Life was so badly arranged—better no women at all than only one woman.

1505 He took them each in one arm, like a man in a musical comedy, and kissed the rouge on their cheeks

1506 The Champ d’asile in Texas 1816 (for Napoleonic veterans)

1507 Zelda and the taxi man’s teeth + Dr Davenport

1508 Vidor at the Luxumberg

1509 Two men stalking each other with deer rifles through Bois de Bologne

1510 Almost a whole chapter on the man’s attempt to educate his children without knowing where he stands himself—amid difficulties.

1511 Horses behind at Pthodomy Club

1512 Boy carried off Titanic by his mother.

1513 A chapter in which their kid comes to him for homosexuality and a consequent long consideration of homosexuality from some such attitude as a Groton father thinking it’s maybe all right for social reasons. Use Groton material from Chateau D’Oex

1514 Coat off in theatre

1515 Tremendous American generosity, without comment

1516 In the shadow of the Pope’s palace at Avignon our Greek guide, an exile from the butcheries in Smyrna, told us with wild enthusiasm of his cousin, a restaurateur and an Elk of Terre Haute, Indiana.
“He wears a high hat and a blue coat with epaulettes and blue braid and green trousers and carries a gold sword in his hand and marches down the main street once a year behind a big band and—”

1517 “Don’t you think that at 104 a man ought to make his will?”
A burst of laughter.
“A hundred and three,” they corrected.
“Well almost a hundred and four. Don’t you think that at a hundred and four a man ought to get his affairs in order?”
“No we don’t,” they said.
I was overwhelmed by their callousness—certainly this grey beard, far from being senile, had common sense.

1518 Meeting Cole Porter in Ritz.

1519 ———— abortion on his daughter.

1520 We all went to hear Chaliaplin that night; after the second act he stayed out in the bar talking to the bar maids and then joined us afterwards a tall unsteady figure, pale as the phantom of the opera himself descending the great staircase.

1521 Imagine saying to Bob Cresswell, apropos of his brother’s death: “Well, he must have been an awful Pig”

1522 About me being in the furnace room and running upstairs for Scottie and Andrew

1523 Brawl in lunch room in Charlottesville

1524 Mme. Tussand and girl who did statue (Ask Nora)

1525 “They don’t allow us and the other rich boys to go to anything except comedies and kidnapping and things like that. The comedies are the things I like.”
“Who? Chaplin?”
“Charlie Chaplin.”
Obviously the words failed to record.
“No, the—you know, the comedies.”
“Who do you like?”Bill asked.
“Oh—” The boy considered, “Well, I like Garbo and Dietrich and Constance Bennett.”
“Their things are comedies?”
“They’re the funniest ones.”
“Funniest what?”
“Funniest comedies.”
“Oh, they try to do this passionate stuff all the time.”

1526 “Then somebody told us about ’party girls.’ Business men with clients from out of town sometimes wanted to give them a big time—singing and dancing and champagne, all that sort of thing, make them feel like regular fellows seeing New York. So they’d hire a room in a restaurant and invite a dozen party girls. All it required was to have a good evening dress and to sit next to some middle-aged man for two hours and laugh at his jokes and maybe kiss him goodnight. Sometimes you’d find a fifty dollar bill in your napkin when you sat down at table.”

1527 The engine in the army.


Most Pleasant Trips Most Unleasant Trips
Auto Paris Zurich Auto Zelda and I South
Auto Zelda and Sap and I Around Lake Como
Auto Ernest and I North Mentone
P.L.M. going north 1925 California
Cherbourg-Paris Quebec
Havre-Paris North from Norfolk
South to Norfolk Tom and Ceci
Around Lake Geneva  

1529 They got on the children’s train and made a tour of the zoo and the woodlands and the playing fields. They sat in single file

1530 Remember the day my little marmoset got loose and chased the two ladies.

1531 Scottie’s triumph at the races

1532 The pushing with palms

1533 So horribly (?) unattractive
frightfully (?) unattractive (Sara to Goulding)

1534 “The somewhat nervous little man at the desk” after a long conversation as to whether the celebrity is “just folks”—“just like anybody else,” etc. with the nervous little man caustic and resentful, divulges himself suddenly as the celebrity.

1535 She had never done anything for love before. She didn’t know what it meant. When her hand struck the bulb she still didn’t know it, nor while the shattered glass made a nuisance by the bedside.

1536 The psychology back of this is kidding the matinee idol without losing dignity. You give them a rather disappointing moment at first, appearing with long sheaf of papers and beginning to read
“In the light of—”
(Stage direction, black down)
Your voice in the dark—“In the light of recent developments—”
(Lights on again)
Gable—looking rather annoyed—“In the light of recent—”
(Stage direction, black down)
Gable—in the darkness, in a rather discouraged voice—“It was felt that my public should really see me as I am and not—”
(Lights go onturns to ms.)

1537 “Pick up the phone and say ’Hello,’ “ directed Schroeder.
“Don’t say who you are.”
“Hello,” said Hannaford obediantly.
“Who is this?” asked a girl’s voice.
Hannaford put his hand over the mouthpiece. “What am I supposed to do?”
Schroeder snickered and Hannaford hesitated, smiling and suspicious.
“Who do you want to speak to?” he temporized into the phone.
“To George Hannaford, I want to speak to. Is this him?”
“Oh, George, it’s me.”
“Me—Gwen. I had an awful time finding you. They told me—”
“Gwen who?”
“Gwen—can’t you hear? From San Francisco—last Thursday night.”
“I’m sorry,” objected George. “Must be some mistake.”
“Is this George Hannaford?”
The voice grew slightly tart: “Well, this is Gwen Becker you spent last Thursday evening with in San Francisco. There’s no use pretending you don’t know who I am, because you do.”
Schroeder took the apparatus from George and hung up the receiver.


1539 Little boy of seven:
“Mister, are you drunk?”
“No why? What made you think that?”
“I noticed you had a stick”
“Does everybody who—”
(exit little boy on velocepede)

1540 Turning on Mrs. Lyons and Virginia and W. Virginia in reference to Charlestown

1541 Yale Banjo Club men drunk and asleep on stage

1542 Man hides by playing drum in orchestra

1543 A bitch dripping milk over a black dress at a formal party.

1544 Rose Marie’s Husband

1545 Man showing some children vanishing coin, accidentally intercepts coin from passer-by. Serves ice cream cones made out of snow.

1546 Roscoe at the information booth like Chaplin on the street car. Information taps his fingers with a hammer.

1547 Hunts for job in barber shop and is lathered by mistake. Lather is taken off and put back in cup. He lathers customer interminably and latter protests he wants shave instead of scour. Starts to shave but razor shakes.

1548 Becomes barker for Fifth Avenue clothing store. Rival barker pulls clothes over his head. The professor as an act of villainy tips tired mother.

1549 For baggage he has one tooth-brush. While his only shirt is washed in laundry he wears a woman’s camisole. Tough boy gives him his business by tearing collar from his neck. He picks up woman on edge of laundry cart.

1550 Burglar uses eating utensils out of his bag. Adds to stock.

1551 Kidnapper gives baby revolver to play with.

1552 Crooks put scrap iron in his pocket to sink him. When rescued he has trouble in walking. Kids bob up and down around him in final close-up with girl.

1553 Animated illustrations in book.

1554 The mind reader called in to help at a third degree shouts out suddenly that the criminal is escaping. “No, its all right. Go on,” says the chief detective. “That was just Inspector Harrigan leaving the room.”

1555 Respectful frisking of bellboys at Plaza—nervous collapse of head waiter at restaurant where they dined.

1556 Blackstone’s man with the gun in Wilmington

1557 Piercing the ear—not the pain but the irreparability of it.

1558 Woman who deposited own check in safety deposit

1559 Dean and sedative

1560 Crook in next room—that case in northern New York where they carried off three probationers as booty. The only one they tortured was the one who took care of her.

1561 Dusk along the Boulevard. I’m the King of Sweden.

1562 Duck Notes—Kinds—Mallard, Blackhead, Canvasback, smaller kind that makes good eating. —Pintails (?) Squeal of the gull, the dog that ate five partridges (coveys of three) and the letter—I forgot to tell you. The shack at five, the gun, the blinds, the clothes. The decoys, sunrise on the Potomac, calm weather and south wind, Wash. monument, Alexandria and Mount Vernon. The stoves. Geo (Mad Athony Wayne) and the sailor (Henry) Mark left circling flight, swarms overhead. Aeroplane formation, gulls, buzzards, crowd. The three dogs, Chesapeake Bay retrievers. Dogs in and out of blinds, killing three at once, the poor decoys. Henry at breakfast, wounded and living ducks, two triggers at once, Henry on what people will do for you, the boatman after the ducks, the furry feel of the breast, gulls eating each other, beautiful sunrise and different sorts of ducks, pictures, sleep, two triggers, migration, the line through glasses, the calling, suddenness, my two lost opportunities, dog had dry coat. Growing darker (4.30) No results, the white mist, the sunset over Virginia, the quiet, the sounds far away, waiting, they fly at you looking large as eagles, the Kentucky humanitarian, the dog diving for duck, the extreme cold, dog licking blood of wounded duck, hanging up duck, cooking duck, the curious mongrel duck, the its cover. Fish eaters, Indian celery bed.

1563 A Dream: Pariale. Betty Foster at party. Her house. Discussion with Asa Bushnell of Football, Oregon, Caulkins, various swells in Empty Toy Store. Downtown, leaving car. Larry Noyes. Losing him, men on bicycles Buying ginger snaps that became trick rings. Deportation. The line of people, struggle in corner. The marine fear. His kick and fall in areaway. (Remember bayonet dream)

1564 His son went down the toilet of the XXXX hotel after Dr. X—Pills

1565 During the Indian attack she rushed about in the center of a blank cartridge bedlam, waving her arms and pointing here and there at the circling redskins as if to indicate startling tactical dispositions.

1566 Perhaps a duck scene

1567 The Sport Roadster
When I was a boy I dreamed that I sat always at the wheel of a magnificent Stutz—in those days the Stutz was the stamp of the romantic life—a Stutz as low as a snake and as red as an Indiana barn. But in point of fact, the best I could manage was the intermittent use of the family car. If I were willing to endure the most unaristocratic groanings and vibrations I could torture it up to fifty miles an hour.
But no matter how passionately I slouched down in the seat, I couldn’t make it look like a Stutz. One day I lowered the top and opened the windshield, and with the car thus pathetically jazzed up, took my mother and another lady down town shopping.
It was a scorching day. The sun blazed down upon us, the molten air blew like the breath of a furnace into our faces—through the open windshield. I could literally feel the sunburn deepening on me, block by block. It was appalling.
The two ladies fanned themselves uneasily. I don’t believe either of them quite realized what the trouble was. But I, even with the perspiration pouring into my eyes, found sight to envy the owner of a peagreen cut-down flivver which oozed by us through the heat.
My passengers visited a series of stores. I waited in the sun, still slouched down, and with that sort of half-sneer on my face which I had noted was peculiar to drivers of racing cars. The heat continued to be terrific.
Finally my mother’s friend came out of the store and I helped her into the car. She sank down into the seat—then sank quickly up again.
“Ah!” she said wildly.
She had burned herself.
When we reached home I offered—most unusually—to take them both for a long ride—anywhere they wished to go. They said politely that they were going for a little walk to cool off!

1568 As they turned into Crest Avenue the new cathedral, immense and unfinished in imitation of a cathedral left unfinished, by accident in some little Flemish town, squatted just across the way like a plump white bulldog on its haunches. The ghost of four moonlit apostles looked down at them wanly from wall niches still littered with the white dusty trash of the builders. The cathedral inaugurated Crest Avenue. After it came the great brownstone mass built by R. R. Comerford, the flower king, followed by a half mile of pretentious stone houses built in the gloomy 90’s. These were adorned with monstrous driveways and porte-cocheres which had once echoed to the hoofs of good horses and with high circular windows that corseted the second stories.
The continuity of these mausoleums was broken by a small park, a triangle of grass where Nathan Hale stood ten feet tall with his hands bound behind his back by stone cord and stared over a great bluff at the slow Mississippi. Crest Avenue ran along the bluff, but neither faced it nor seemed aware of it, for all the houses fronted inward toward the street. Beyond the first half mile it became newer, essayed ventures in terraced lawns, in concoctions of stucco or in granite mansions which imitated through a variety of gradual refinements the marble contours of the Petit Trianon. The houses of this phase rushed by the roadster for a succession of minutes; then the way turned and the car was headed directly into the moonlight which swept toward it like the lamp of some gigantic motorcycle far up the avenue.
Past the low Corinthian lines of the Christian Science Temple, past a block of dark frame horrors, a deserted row of grim red brick—an unfortunate experi­ment of the late 90’s—then new houses again, bright binding flowery lawns. These swept by, faded, passed, enjoying their moment of grandeur; then waiting there in the moonlight to be outmoded as had the frame, cupoloed mansions of lower town and the brownstone piles of older Crest Avenue in their turn.
The roofs lowered suddenly, the lots narrowed, the houses shrank up in size and shaded off into bungalows. These held the street for the last mile, to the bend in the river which terminated the prideful avenue at the statue of Chelsea Arbuthnot. Arbuthnot was the first governor— and almost the last of Anglo-Saxon blood.
All the way thus far Yanci had not spoken, absorbed still in the annoyance of the evening, yet soothed somehow by the fresh air of Northern November that rushed by them. She must take he fur coat out of storage next day, she thought.
“Where are we now?”
As they slowed down Scott looked up curiously at the pompous stone figure, clear in the crisp moonlight, with one hand on a book and the forefinger of the other pointing, as though with reproachful symbolism, directly at some construction work going on in the street.
“This is the end of Crest Avenue,” said Yanci, turning to him. This is our show street.”
“A museum of American architectural failures.”

1569 It was a large luxurious boudoir, panelled, like the lower hall, in dark Ebglish oak and bathed by several lamps in a mellow orange glow that blurred its every outline into misty amber. In a great armchair piled high with cushions and draped with a curiously figured cloth of silk reclined a very sturdy old lady with bright hair, heavy features, and an air about her of having been there for many years. She lay somnolently against the cushions, her eyes half closed, her great bust rising and falling under her black negligee.
But it was something else that made the room remarkable and Myra’s eyes scarcely rested on the woman, so engrossed was she in another feature of her surroundings. On the carpet, on the chairs and sofas, on the great canopied bed and on the soft Angora rug in front of the fire sat and sprawled and slept a great army of white poodle dogs. There must have been almost two dozen of them with curly hair twisting in front of their wistful eyes and wide yellow bows flaunting from their necks. As Myra and Knowleton entered a stir went over the dogs; they raised one and twenty cold black noses in the air and from one-and-twnety little throats went up a great clatter of staccato barks until the room was filled with such an uproar that Myra stepped back in alarm.
But at the din the somnolent fat lady’s eyes trembled open and in a low husky voice that was in itself oddly like a bark she snapped out: “Hush that racket!” and the clatter instantly ceased. The two or three poodles around the fire turned their silky eyes on each other reproachfully, and lying down with little sighs faded out on the white Angora rug; The tousled ball on the lady’s lap dug his nose into the crook of an elbow and went back to sleep, and except for the patches of white wool scattered about the room Myra would have thought it all a dream.
“Child!” she said—and Myra started, for again the voice was like a low sort of growl—“you want to marry my son, Knowleton?”
Myra felt that this was putting the tonneau before the radiator but she nodded.
“Yes, Mrs. Whitney.”
Myra was not certain whether this last ejaculation was conversation or merely a groan, so she did not answer.
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t appear downstairs,” continued Mrs. Whitney, “but when we’re in the East I seldom leave this room and my dear little doggies.”
“Good night, mother,” said Knowleton.
“Night!” barked Mrs. Whitney drowsily, and her eyes sealed gradually up as her head receded back again into the cushions.
Knowleton held open the door and Myra feeling a bit blank left the room. As they walked down the corridor she heard a burst of furious sound behind them, the noise of the closing door had again roused the poodle dogs.

1570 Once upon a time Princeton was a leafy campus where the students went in for understatement and if they had earned a P wore it on the inside of the sweater, displaying only the orange seams as if the letter were only faintly deserved. The professors were patient men who prudently kept their daughters out of contact with the students. Half a dozen great estates ringed the township which was inhabited by townsmen and darkies—these latter the avowed descendants of body servants brought north by southerners before the civil war.
Nowadays Princeton is an “advantageous residential vicinity”—in consequence of which young ladies dressed in riding habits with fashionable manners may be encountered lounging in the students’ clubs on Prospect Avenue. The local society no longer has a professional, almost military homogenuity—it is leavened with many frivolous people, and has “sets” and antennae extending to New York and Philadelphia.

1571 “Been looking all over the ship for you for two days.”
The speaker was an ageless Jew, wrapped in a polo coat, and tied with a belt—his nose was a finger pressing down his compressed lips which shuffled under it as he mulled and valued, his eyes were beautiful and mean. The two men each recapitulated to himself the many dealings they had had in the past or were likely to have in the future.
“Where did you keep yourself, Lew?” asked the Jew, Bowman, “I thought I’d see you at the Captain’s table.”
“We heard you were on board so we stayed in our cabin,” Lew answered gravely.
Bowman’s face fell, not at the harshness of pleasantry ’ but because he usually looked forward to a few minutes of formal cordiality before people commenced the abuse which he subconsciously demanded.
“That was a wise thing for you to marry a lady. There’s nothing like a lady. I’ve always been glad I married a lady myself.”
“Do you call that broad of yours a lady?” asked Lew.
“Bowman looked at him.
“You don’t feel in a good humor today.”
“Yes, I do,” said Lew. He had resented the implication that he and Bowman were upstarts and with sadistic cruelty he prolonged the moment; then he laughed, “Hell, George, I’m kidding you. If you had any self-respect you’d have socked me. Of course Edith’s a lady, one of the finest ladies I know.” Anyhow half the word was true, so he’d heard.
“You’re all right, Lew,” said Bowman meditatively, “All you need is every-once-in-a-while a good swift kick in the—”
“Sure, that’s right, and to make up for that I’ll come to your lowsy party.”
“You don’t need to come to my party. You, a Yale man, talking like that. No one would ever know it.” He went Jewish suddenly, “But come to the party.”
“Sure I will.” He put his hand in a friendly way on Bowman’s arm.
He was thinking of her—he knew now that his abstraction had hurt her, for it was always after he had hurt her that she seemed most beautiful, unattainable and serene.
He found her in the cabin, just standing, thinking. He was afraid of her when she thought, knowing that in the part of her most removed from him, there was taking place a tireless ratiocination, the synthesis of which was always a calm sense of the injustice and unsatisfactions of life. He knew with which her mind worked, but he was always surprised that it brought forth in the end protests that were purely abstract, and in which he figured only as an element as driven and succourless as herself. This made him more afraid than if she said, “It was your fault,” as she frequently did—for by it she seemed to lift the situation and its interpretation out of his grasp. In that region his mind was more feminine than hers—he felt light, and off his balance—and a little like the Dickens’ character who accused his wife of praying against him.

1572 “Well, Cassandra,” he said.
Her grey eyes moved over him as if she was checking up on something she had formulated in her mind. But: “Who was Cassandra?” she asked.
“She was a prophetess. Listen, darlo, you thought I didn’t want you to walk with me, didn’t you?”
She shook her head slowly.
“I was thinking of those curtains. I’d like a room with just stars in it.”
He put his arms around her, enclosing her completely as if he didn’t want even the intangible to escape, but even as she came close to him he felt something fly off into the salty air of the cabin. Simultaneously he had a sense of change, of a new rhythm that in a moment became a great silence. Far off in it there were voices calling.
He stepped back, shaking his head like a wet dog.
The engine’s stopped,” he said, “Something’s happened.”
On the deck people walking, reading, loafing, exercising, were all hurrying toward the stern.

1573 The constant endeavor of trained nurses in a patient’s room is to get all moveable articles out before the doctor arrives approximating as closely as possible the stripped look of an operating chamber. The result is like that obtained in the case of a dog baring a bone. It is the burying that matters; not the bone—in the meantime after the nurses’ departure, missed or forgotten objects turn up in the corners of strange drawers and escritoires. The hanging of trousers is another matter in which technique must be part of the nurses’ course. From the decorums of Hopkins to the casualness of the Pacific they are seized by both cuffs, twisted several times in reverse, placed in the corner of the hanger and left to dangle rather like a man hanged. That same nurse may go home and put away a pair of slacks in perfect shape for future wearing, but no man ever left a hospital with the same crease that he had when he went in.

1574 They had been run into by a school bus which lay, burning from the mouth, half on its side against a tall bank of the road, with the little girls screaming as they stumbled out the back.

1575 “You know”, he said to Miss Hapgood, “I was about nine years old when they had that war flu in 1918—and that was the kind of disease to have. We lived near a camp and I got it. That was a real bug. I was playing cops and robbers and one mintue I was behind a tree yelling something and one minute later I was trying to hang on to some garden furniture and asking another boy to tell my father I was sick. When it hit you either you woke up dead or you woke up with somebody bringing in bacon and eggs—and not enough of them. You know—like the Bubonic Plague.”

1576 A young man phoned from a city far off, then from a city near by, then from downtown informing me that he was coming to call, though he had never seen me. He arrived eventually with a great ripping up of garden borders, a four ply rip in a new lawn, a watch pointing accurately and unforgivably at three. . But he was prepared to disarm me with the force of his compliment, the intensity of the impulse that had brought him to my door. “Here I am at last,” he said teetering triumphantly. “I had to see you. I feel I owe you more than I can say. I feel that you formed my life.”

1577 Singer flashing light

1578 Man met Cab Calloway and Eddie Duchin under the impression that they were Yale Football stars.

1579 Hearing Hitler’s speech while going down Sunset Blvd. in a car.

1580 The Selwynn-Rothstein mixup.

1581 “You frozen?”
“No—but I will be eventually. So I think I’ll get married this spring, when the winds are warm on Long Island and I find someone with an open car.”
“That sounds good,” he said pensively but in the vista of pungent darkness that stretched suddenly before his mind’s eye he saw Jill’s hair flying. “Spring—what a big word. It’s almost everything.”
“No,” she said. “There’s summer, if you’ve planted the proper trees.”

1719 1865
Down Pennsyvania avenue, past the gibbering dinges on the sidewalks and the fat profiteers in the stands, marched the sweated labor of farm and factory, now entilted “The Army of the Potomac”.
In his raw grave, Lincoln shifted his position wearily, glad at any rate to be away from his horrible wife. It was all pretty lousy.

1725 Miss Cuba at Rhodadendron Festival.

1729 Man, by subterfuge, gets his own natural children adopted and brought up by childless wife.

1754 Nora’s Day
Engaged to two. The Band of Four arrive—Mumble-de-peg.
The proposals. The father.
All night. The hammock. The freezer—Bump heels—hands. Sent to Europe.

1762 Part of the wall gives way at the pressure of a button and a bar slides into view. A muted radio begins to whisper Star Dust into the room,] and Mr. Deere orders things on the phone. It is girls he is ordering— three—four—
“—and if you can’t get her get Miss Lindsay. But Miss Crane sure, if you’ve got to trace her all around town...”
It is five now and the room seems full of girls, all very young and new under an alternate set of shaded lights. From behind another panel rolls a little piano with four octaves and a tall thin man goes ravenously to work on it while the smoke thickens and white coated waiters serve hors d’oevres and champagne and a young woman melodiously confronts the monied men with the enigma of why she was born. Hopkins from Topeka will have a tale to tell back home.

1768 Barbara’s coat that the moths ate except buttons.

(T) Titles


(U) Unclassified

1583 My extraordinary dream about the Crimean war.

1584 The improper number of Life and the William’s Purple Cow cover beginning something.

1585 Time: Henry VIII cut from a halitosis ad.

1586 Husband did everything he wanted himself, so in what didn’t concern him she did what she wanted.

1587 Snubs, Marice, Ruth (Clothes), Toolman and son, Gerald bull fight.

1588 Just before quarrel had been talking about the best and what it was founded on.

1589 She and her husband and all their friends had no principles. They were good or bad accoring to their natures; often they struck attitudes remembered from the past, but they were never sure as her father or her grandfather had been sure. Confusedly she supposed it was something about religion. But how could you get principles just by wishing for them?

1590 The war had become second-page news.

1591 Meeting Princetonians in the army as buglers etc.

1592 Diary of the God Within—they got half of it—this is the other half.

1593 Before breakfast, their horses’ hoofs sedately scattered the dew in sentimental glades, or curtained them with dust as they raced on dirt roads. They bought a tandem bicycle and pedaled all over Long Island—which a contemporary Cato, considered “rather fast” for a couple not yet married.

1594 Color blind doctor who couldn’t tell baby had jaundice.

1595 The brain of Dr. Gantt’s dog.

1596 About three pieces of the truth (specific) fitted into one of the most malicious and troublesome lies she’d ever told. These latter are permitted this indiscretion within limits as about the only surcease they will ever find in this world.

1597 We took a place in the great echoing salon as far away from the other clients as possible, much as theatrical managers ’“dress a thin house” distributing the crowd to cover as much ground as possible.

1598 In Hendersonville
I am living very cheaply. Today I am in comparative affluence, but Monday and Tuesday I had two tins of potted meat, three oranges and a box of Uneedas and two cans of beer. For the food that totalled 18 cents a day—and when I think of the thousand meals I’ve sent back untasted in the last two years. It was fun to be poor—especially you haven’t enough liver power for an appetite. But the air is fine here and I liked what I had—and there was nothing to do about it anyhow because I was afraid to cash any checks and I had to save enough for postage for the story. But it was funny coming into the hotel and the very deferential clerk not knowing that I was not only thousands, nay tens of thousands in debt, but had less than 40 cents cash in the world and probably a $13. deficit at my bank. I gallantly gave Scotty my last ten when I left her and of course, the Flynns etc. had no idea and wondered why I didn’t just jump into a taxi” ($4.00 and tip) and runover for dinner.
Enough of this bankrupt’s comedy—I suppose it has been enacted all over the U. S. in the last four years, plenty times.
Nevertheless, I haven’t told you the half of it, i.e. My underwear I started with was a pair of pajama pants—just that. It was only today I could replace them with a union suit. I washed my two handkerchiefs and my shirt every night, but the pajama trousers I had to wear all the time and I am presenting it to the Hendersonville Museum. My socks would have been equally notorious save there was not enough of them left for they served double duty as slippers at night. The final irony was when a drunk man in the shop where I bought my can of ale said in a voice obviously intended for me, “These city dudes from the East come down here with their millions. Why don’t they support us?”

1599 LIVES OF THE DANCERS (A Ballet Synopsis)by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I Some Russians and the dance, before the war. Heartburn in a village.
II The dancing characters are moved by fate to post-war Paris.
The great days of the ballet seem to end in catastrophe.
III Again destiny moves the protagonists on—this time to the new world. The deathless art takes root to grow again in fresh soil.
Music for Scene I, Russian folk song and classic composers—pre-war
Music for Scene II, Appropriately blended selection from Diagloff ballets of 1919-1929
Music for Scene III, American music to be composed or assembled—some use of former Russian airs. This to be decided later.
Scene I A Russian Village
Lubov, village belle, has received word that her childhood sweetheart, Serge, now embarked upon a career in the Russian Imperial Ballet will arrive to see her. The renewal of his youthful pledge, so thinks she and her friends.
Serge arrives in a carriage, shows off his acquired talents, dallies with her but makes it evident to the audience he is not serious but has some other purpose.
Serge is followed by Unknown (magicians costume, black mask, black silk stockings and tail coat, old fashioned stock and opera hat) who indicates “do what you’re here for.”
Serge, fascinated by the lure of art, obeys, using Lubov as decoy to find out from Old Peasant Woman (comedy type) secret pagan festival dance needed by Imperial Ballet.
Serge is by this time drawn to Lubov and wants to marry her and take her away even though it compromises his career. But before he has entirely committed himself Unknown appears, fascinates Serge with technical tricks he can still show him. Serge weakens, follows Unknown while Lubov brokenhearted laments with peasant girls who try to console her. Cossachs of village called up for army, depart and other girls rush to speed them off but Lubov laments only her lost Serge.
Scene II
Theatre de Dance Russe, Paris
Asbestos curtain up disclosing drop curtain painted to represent exterior theatre, posters, etc. Season of 1924 prominently displayed.
Practical portal to theatre. Audience enters from wings and exits through portal. During this:
(1) Entrance of Lubov now become international high courtesan.
(2) Last to enter—after crowd, the Unknown, unmasked, grey devilish beard and proprietary air about performance.
Immediately after
Drop curtain rises upon this:
In Dressing roomSerge, the star making up adulation, flowers, last instruction of Unknown who is clearly indicated now as ballet master and impressario.
Opera Box—Entrance of Lubov, popular, chic, but preoccupied, Indifferent. Leaves box and reappears in Dressing Room. Black out box and roll out.
Dressing Room—Reunion Serge and Lubov. He tries to attone—too late she says—she’s now hot stuff and well kept in Paris. Sad. He shrugs shoulders. Obvious both regret. Resignation. Black out dressing room.
Scene is Back Stage as it would be seen looking toward the imaginary audience before curtain rise. Prop curtain swings and gives full stage as indicated by diagram. Unknown drilling girls in last rehearsal.
Groups of artists, musicians, writers.
Unknown indicates ill health from overwork. Word to clear stage for curtain rise. Girls in wings. Music starts. Unknown takes final look, starts to leave stage, collapses, dies.
General commotion, music continues; played in back of real back drop to indicate it’s being played in orchestra pit; Serge rushes out horror stricken; Unknown placed on bier; they are all stricken but defer to Serge’s grief. Music dies away.
Entrance of dancing chorus. Death dance in dimming lights, with singers in muted orchestra; wierd green spot on Unknown lying on bier. Serge solos alone. Lubov comes in to console him but he drives her fiercely away.
Scene III A Road House on Long Island, 1933.
Serge poor and dancing at roadhouse (Beer Signs, etc.) conducts a class by permission of owner before opening for business. Bad class, hopeless, one good pupil who is mysterious and always appears masked.
Class goes—Serge, overworked and discouraged, dozes—fragments of the past appear. He rises in sleep, gropes toward vision of Unknown but when stage blacks out for a moment and former lights come on to indicate reality he finds himself holding Mystery Pupil; who, when unveiled, is fifteen-year old girl and who has crept back to practise at bar while he slept.
Lubov appears—widow of rich American; forty, still pretty. She indicates that Mystery Pupil is her daughter and has inherited her potential talent.
Serge and Lubov reconciled. He will teach her daughter and is absorbed in beginning lessons when road house guests begin to drift in; there is a sort of counterpoint of American and Russian music, ballet of guests upstage taking its tone (but jazzing it) from classic ballet indicated by dancing lesson of three principals in front.

1600 A Preface:Acknowledgements, who have verified references for me or made valuable suggestions, oceanography etc., Garbo, Beebe or mythology, etiquette, lost cooking Mrs. Rorer, exploration, Hemmingway bullfighting, com­munism, Dos Passos, cannibalism, my own early works for necking (or petting), Amelia Earhart air currents, John J. Pershing military science, the Badaeker guides to Provence, China also curators Smithsonian Cardinal Vatican; also Universities Paris, etc., Guttengen, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Tuskeegee, fresh water and Springfield Y.M.C.A. and college of electors at Washington, use of library, editors of Encyclopedia, Mr. Charles Scribner for the use of a pencil sharpener; proofs Hem., corrections Joyce Shaw. Stravinski scoring of certain passages. To Picasso for etching, Brancusi for wood pulp, Stalin U.S.S.R. Stenography for faithfully and uncomplainingly typing the entire ms. Last and least to my wife, daughter, aunts, who put at my disposal letters, wills, portraits, photographs, documents, stamp books, post card collections, laundry marks, cigar bands, report cards, diplomas, pardons, trials, convictions, accusations, leases and unpaid bills, stamp collections and Confederate money. The idea if I’m going to begin all over again at 37. Buy book if your name in it. Bibliography. I’am indebted by Mayor Walker of Cannes. The book is without index. On England and on the Continent—but enough have shown their friendship, and I feel that they have written this book just as much as I have. (or: they have all been willing collaborators, etc.)

1601 There are many places here and there and up and down the world, which like O’Henry’s “Five Stories Cities,” suggest that one has only to go there to see something happen, but his illusion persists largely in those without the opportunity to travel. There can be a simply unimaginable dullness in a Montana cow country saloon, in Chinatown or Limehouse—perhaps because we expect so much; this applies also to a glamorous and youthful ball after one has reached a certain age, or a gondola in Venice if one hasn’t; or to Hollywood teas if one is invited or to the real haunts of the underworld if one is not; or to a Paris cafe or a lonely road at night, or a park bench at dawn—it is best to stop here and rest a moment on the park bench, using it both for a seat and for an example.

1602 To begin a chapter—It is said that the Tartar tribes cooked their meat by slinging it saddle wise across their horses and riding on it all day, producing, I suppose, a sort of pound steak.

1603 The Rocky Mountains still being formed.

1604 All my life I had wanted to meet a big shot—as a matter of fact I met one of the biggest when I was boy, but I was too young to know that he was loaded. They began dying off in the nineteen hundreds and there was no one to replace them except Henry Ford and he was all washed and groomed and the rotogravures showed him in camp with Edison and the other members of the success back-field. By and by Morgan was dead and Harriman was dead and you couldn’t scrape enough color of all their successors together to make up a juvenile lead.

1605 My great grandmother visted Dolly Madison

1606 Save Chauffeur from Josphine II

1607 Savings from Grit

1608 It appeared on the page of great names and was illustrated by a pictures of a cross-eyed young lady holding the hand of a savage gentlemen with four rows of teeth. That was how their pictures came out, anyhow, and the public was pleased to know that they were ugly monsters for all their money, and everyone was satisfied all around. The society editor set up a column telling how Mrs. Van Tyne started off in the Aquitania wearing a blue traveling dress of starched felt with a round square hat to match.

1609 An Akbar—Mohammedan name for man with halitosis

1610 From a little distance one can perceive an order in what at the time seemed confusion—the case in point is the society of a three generation middle-western city before the war. There were the two or three enormously rich, nationally known families—outside of them rather than below them the heirachy began. At the top came those whose grandparents had brought something with them from the East, a vestige of money and culture; then came the families of the big self-made merchants, the “old settlers” of the sixties and seventies, American-English-Scotch, or German or Irish, looking down upon each other somewhat in the order named—upon the Irish less from religious difference—French Catholics were considered rather distinguished—than from their taint of political corruption in the East. After this came certain well-to-do “new people” —mysterious, out of a cloudy past, possibly unsound. Like so many structures this one did not survive the cataract of money that came tumbling down upon it with the war.
This preamble is necessary to explain the delicate social (relation) so incomprehensible to a European between Gladys Van Schillinger, aged fourteen, and her senior by one year, Basil Duke Lee. Basil’s father had been an unsuccessful young Kentuckian of good family and his mother, Alice Rielly, the daughter of a “pioneer” wholesale grocer. As Tarkington says American children belong to their mother’s families, and Basil was “Alice Rielly’s son.” Gladys Van Schillinger, on the contrary—

1611 After awhile he lowered his paper slowly until the bottom part of it crumpled a little in his lap.
“What are you looking at?” he inquired.
The mood and the tone of the question were impatient—he tried to soften them with a faint smile.
“Do I look funny to you in any way?
No answer. His smile widened—suddenly dis­appeared. He took up the paper again and began the cartoon.
Where did Skigum go? Drat that man…Scaw you! he read. There was a picture of a stout woman chasing spotted dog from pantry.
Hello Gert. Did Skigum—I’ll get him out for you
He dropped the paper to his lap again.
“Have I done anything?” he demanded, “You’ve got that look on your face you always have when I’ve done something.”
His wife sighed faintly.
“No, you haven’t done anything,” she said, with the implication that it would have been a hundred times better if he’d done something. “You haven’t done anything at all.”
He knew that answer. He knew all the answers. If he asked “Why are you looking at me?” she would have the choice of several—“Do you object to my looking at you?” or “I didn’t realize I was looking at you.”
But confound it she was looking at him! And if there’s one thing a woman has no right to do it is to look at her husband with the silent, mysterious persistence of a reproachful sphinx. He called it the “West Point Silence” sometimes. He had read that when a man’s conduct was being tacitly criticised at the Military Academy no one spoke to him. So in his more spirited moods he called it “The West Point Silence.” He tried another note.
“I love you, dear, and I can’t read the paper with any pleasure when I know you’ve got something against me in your mind.”
Lucile got up and regarded herself in a long mirror with solemn interest. There was a white wisp of lint on her long eyelashes which she removed and the pink ghost of a smudge which she erased from the left scallop of her pretty mouth.

1612 Bread and Butter Letter from a Chicago Gentleman:
Dear Marion,
I certainly enjoyed myself. The chow was all good, mostly, but the butter was rancid. The bed was hard but uncomfortable. The talk was over my head but there was some made sense—that part about my being a great guy for instance.
I got home sick at the stummuck but I do not blame you at all.
Will you tell the servents next time I like my soup hot and more of a sharp edge when they press my pants.
You said I only had to pay one buck for board but even that is too much when the service is not good. That black bean soup was rancid too, and mine had a beetle in it. Besides there wasn’t enough blankets and the only good one was stale like it had been used for a baby or something.
I liked all the people I met except that woman I had to slug at dinner. Tell her I hope she found her teeth in the tomato soup when they emptied it out. No gentleman should have done a thing like that but I cannot stand a warm stocking on my ankle under the table.
I’m sorry I shot the horse and dog but they kep me awake 1/2 the night and I come there for a rest. You will find a lot of cigar stubs in the refrigidaire as I did not know where to put them. I do not want them however so give them to one of the negro servants, you know the colored ones, not your uncle or aunt or anybody like that. The black ones.
I’ll tell you when I can come down again and we will have more of that fun in the dumb waiter—hey kid, you know? Only I’m sorry I left you between floors when I went to bed. I thot it would give you more time to cool off so you could get some sleep too.
All right kid and goodby and I know now you are not such a dumb cluck as you look like.
P.S. If you called that thing a cocktail then listerine is the Holy Grail.

1613 Songs of 1906
Way Down in Cotton Town
Rogers Bros.
Coax Me
Kiss Me Good Night Dear Love
Don’t Get Married Anymore, Love
Waiting at the Church
Vesta Victoria
Tale of a Kangaroo
Dearie, My Dearie
If It Takes My Whole Week’s Pay
Roosevelt and Big Stick
Princeton Glee Club
Nora Bayes and Harvest Moon

1717 Note: The little fish at Malibu. Ask me.

1718 Note: New novel note at top of p. 10. Put in section where Stahr is ill in N. Y.

1723 Note about smudges in orange grove (ask me

(V) Vernacular

1614 Man saying, “This is Jack O’Brien,”,“this is Florence Fuller.”

1615 “Sleep, male cabbage.”

1616 “’Cause I just came from there and they told me one of their mos’ celebrated heartbreakers was visiting up here, and meanwhile her suitors were shooting themselves all over the city. That’s the truth. I used to help pick ’em up myself sometimes when they got littering the streets.”

1617 Freeman: Grease in the transcommission—What are you scused of?

1618 Those dumguards.

1619 The McCoy.


Modern Slang:
Pushover A Heel
Grand A Dick
Bag A Natural
Lay On the Lose (not loose)
Sugar A Punk
Life preserver Kee-ooot

1621 Well you’re not exactly in the saoth or the soth or the suth or even the sith.

1622 A prenograstic=stenographer (Freeman) A toomer—a tournament

1623 Retire
Ring’s friend Wish some potatoes

1624 “Put it down there!” for “sit down.”

1625 Andrew’s coinages (investigate)

1626 Cliche: In spite of them perhaps because of them

1627 Obsolete expression: Confound it!

1628 Unusual—Babbitt’s word very, very fine

1629 Unbeknownst

1630 “Ai feel ez if erne being kpt,” said the English lady

1631 “Admired mentality” of Mrs. Richards

1632 Slang. Branegan (party) conk (kill) klink (jail)

1633 Too much shiftin of the vessels for the movin of the vittles


It burns her up in movies
She burns up
He burns up

1635 No Dice
No Soap

1636 Sheilah (pouting) All raht. Ah wull.

1637 Comes in a pa-a-akige, so conve-e-n’t. (ending all clauses and sentences)

1733 Conversation: “Do you know what I’ve come to the conclusion of etc.”

1734 “Nigger” talk: Illegiterate = Illigitimate Illiterate


Slang (collegiate)
A Jeep ................... Orchid Consumer
Floating ................... Long Dress
Drag ................... Main Street
Jelly ................... Small Date
Joe College ................... Collegiate
A drip ................... Bird<
” of the pt. water ................... Bird
Clapping ................... Cutting in.
Trucking ................... Walking like that.
Smooch ) Necking
Perch )
Pitch and Fling Woo )

1755 Gurrodge and Mussodge for Garage and Massage.

(W) Work References

1638 For Shaggy: Dogs are supposed to want to talk but that’s just one of the phoney ideas people have about us.

1639 Correction of New Yorker Poem:
Was that each of us got holy
then got mad
Trying to give the third one to
the other.

1640 For Tender is the Night
Book I Insert 2 words at beginning (To P. 148) The Prelude
Book II Before the Prelude (To P. 212) Insert 3 words on P. 149 prelude
Book III After the Prelude (To P. 306) Insert 3 words on sep. page. Just don’t number Chaps. 11 to 23 would be chaps. 1 to 13.
Book IV Suite (To end) Insert one word on P. 307
Renumbering of Chapters.

(Y) Youth and Army

1641 Bobby’s motorcycle and cigarette case.

1642 Club elections in 1915 were in the worst snow storm in years. Found that out 20 years afterwards, but remember chasing Sap thru the snow.

1643 The forced march.
The rides to see Zelda
The thief at Leavenworth
The missing material
The scene with sergeants.

1644 Once in his youth he had been a boy scout for a month, but all he remembered was the scout call, “Zinga, Zinga Bom-Bom.”

1645 I can read faster than almost anybody, much faster than any of those nasty little girls in Vanilla that think they can read so fast, the big smarties! I read “When Patty Went to College,” when some girls don’t read it till they’re ten.

1646 “Don’t touch me,” she said quickly. “You’ve been handling money.”
“But not in my mouth, mother,” he protested humorously.

1647 They sat, as they had so often, in a row on the steps, surrounded, engulfed, drowned in summer.

1648 Now, in the relief, the parents grew angry with Josephine as with a child who has toddled under galloping horses.

1649 There was a flurry of premature snow in the air and the stars looked cold. Staring up at them he saw that they were his stars as always—symbols of ambition, struggle and glory. The wind blew through them, trumpeting that high white note for which he always listened, and the thin-brown clouds, stripped for battle, passed in review. The scene was of an unparalleled brightness and magnificence, and only the practiced eye of the commander saw that one star was no longer there.

1650 Mrs. Perry was a vague lady. She knew that Josephine was going to be in some amateur play and she imagined vaguely that it was under the personal supervision of the University professors with the President himself probably popping in and out at rehearsals.

1651 Mary Pulipitut, Sherba Thene, Jane Refile, Miss Trigor.

1652 Johnson, Pettijohn, Radamacher, Rosenwald, Walker (2) McGovern.

1653 “I always say ’Entre’ “, Scotty.

1654 Going down to Carling’s restaurant to drink whiskey, wines and beer. Perhaps on her way back to the lake after the dance, Minnie, passing by, would see his face among the wildest of the revelers and understand. “I’m going to Maxim’s,” he hummed to himself desperately; then he added impatiently, “Oh, to heck with Maxim’s!”

1655 Who called me Fitzboomski during Russo-Jap war?

1656 Children’s lack of emotion as we know it is healthy.

1657 Six authors in search of a character (Newman School)

1658 Sir Tonsidor.

1659 Dressing in Curtain.

1660 Aunt Clara scrubbing my feet

1661 Candle grease, Alley’s room, Grandma and dog, lettuce, Revue de Deux Mondes

1662 Sap and national debt

1663 Shame at the inequality by Hooker and Scarlett covered by deep seriousness and lowering of eyes.
Innocence—appreciated by outsiders and unconsciously exploited—Byles etc.
Faint Homosexuality unconscious hero worship involved.

1664 Scotty—When I was four years old and you were in the habit of spanking for me.

1665 Chemical Experiences (Scotty’s word)

1666 Eating Garlic

1667 Great Big Fat Dumbbell

1668 The Mome

1669 I kiss the two parents

1670 Scotty preoccupated

1671 Playing movie actress

1672 Freak of nature

1673 The days of blazers and two sorts of telephones

1674 Scott Fitzgerald so they say
Goes a-courting night and day

1675 Playing with yo-yos in the drug store walking the dog ditto

1676 Presently Iris told them a joke.
“In the bus,” she said, “there was a man who wanted to get up. Well, thinking himself intelligent, he asked the conducteur, ’Your Noel’s arch, is it complete?! and the conducteur said, ’Yes, now we have the donkey, will you climb?’ “
Morgan and Frieda looked at each other frankly. It was less intelligible than it would have been in its native French though certain words sounded familiar. Noel’s arch for instance.
“Don’t you see,” explained Iris, “the Noel’s arch would be complete because he was a donkey.”
This was more confusing than before.
“Could she mean Noah’s Arc?”
“Of course. And the conductor said that with the addition of the donkey it would be complete. Very good, Iris—tell me another.”
“They don’t sound as funny in French as in English.”
“No,” Morgan agreed, “perhaps not.”

1677 Excursion to Concarnneau, a beautiful seaport. Is famous for its blue fishing nets when all the brilliant of the colours are gathered together under the sunbeams it is magnificent. (Scotty)

1678 …the essential is that it doesn’t rain...Pouah!

1679 The sea blue with green nightgowns and white nightcaps. Mile, is waiting for the water to get warmer to go in. I think she can wait a whole century for that miracle.

1680 And the socks were long because the dress was short—it simply wasn’t becoming to show so much flesh. If the dress were longer the socks could be shorter, did Madame see?

1681 Dearie
Stay in your own back yard
Waiting at the church
Tropic color
Kiss me good night
I’m Romeo
Oh moonbeam light and airy
Bamboo tree

1682 McKibben, Driscoll and Dorsey. French, Van Slyke McConville.

1683 My buckboard

1684 Alley’s razor

1685 Banjo lessons

1686 The Mormon who came to see me at Aunt A’s in St. Paul

1687 “Everybody works” and “I’m the guy”

1688 “Dear old fellow
I may inform you that I received your note. But can also inform you that the place where I stay is Le Poildu and not La Poildu. Amen. I play every afternoon in the garden with a little girl who lives in the hotel. When we climbed on the top of a toll sort of thing we had a magnificent view of the country all around. Brittany is a really very pretty place. Very many laboureurs, workers, farmers with their wives, farmers and washers. You can see rocks and rocks with the night-capped waves attaching them. I hope you have the same exquisite site. I am learning tennis with a very good teacher at the Union sportive de la poel.
Oug! Aie! there is the cat Dicky who is putting his claws into my innocent skin of my delicious self.”
There followed a portrait of Dickie “seen of face and of side” and the letter bore the signature “Iris, your delicious daughter”
P.S. I just left this note on Mile’s bureau “Puisque vous me faites le supplice de Pruneaux delivrey-moi des gouttes dan le nez. I hope she will have pity.”
Morgan opened one of the “weekly newspapers” that Iris had made for him when she was away en Brittainy last summer:
The loo Pieces of New News
India is in a bad case
Yesterday the english king spoke of a complete defeat among the indians the defeat of Calicut is terrible for us
We will sadly announce that Mrs. Iris Parklings’ reverend daughter, Miss Marie-Antoinette Parkling who came from Bellagio, Italy, had to go yesterday to the doll hospital. Her arm came straight off during her school recess while she was tumbling over a pile of comrades.
Fine Arts
The new fantasy of Miss Iris Parkling.
The well-known actress has had a fantasy these last days and has wanted to by clay to undertake schulpture. She wants to model a head of Mlle. her most complaisant poser.

1689 Fitzgerald’s livery stable

1690 Jimmie and me kissing Marie and Elizabeth, and the sprained ankle.

1691 Gave up spinach for Lent

1692 “Idioglossea” what Driscoll twins had.

1693 May I take the key

1694 Sing Song at Yacht Club

1695 Candy being distributed in youth—“Oh come on you know me.”

1696 You’re liable to get a bullet the side of the head.

1697 Foxy Grampa

1698 Sis Hopkins

1699 Mrs. Wiggs

1700 My lady sips from her satin shoe

1701 Since he rode into Brussels in a staff car in October 1918

1702 It all seemed very familiar to me, probably it was like some hay ride of my youth.

1703 Thirteen
Me: What? Did they separate the sexes at the play?
Scotty: Daddy—don’t be vulgar!

1704 Curious nostalgia about Pam, Anne of Green Gables, ets.

1705 Her eyes, dark and intimate, seemed to have wakened at the growing brilliance of the illuminations overhead; there was the promise of excitement in them now, like the promise of the cooling night.

1706 with a bad complexion brooding behind a mask of cheap pink powder

1707 As the car rose, following the imagined curve of the sky, it occured to Basil how much he would have enjoyed it in other company, or even alone, the fair twinkling beneath him with new variety, the velvet quality of the darkness that is on the edge of light and is barely permeated by its last attenuations. Again they reached the top of the wheel and the sky stretched out overhead, again they lapsed down through gusts of music from remote calliopes

1708 When I was young the boys in my street still thought that Catholics drilled in the cellar every night with the idea of making Pius the ninth autocrat of this republic.

1709 She and I used to sit at the piano and sing. We were eighteen so whenever we came to the embarrassing words “lovey-dovey” or “tootsie-wootsie” or “passion” in the lyric, we would obliterate the indelicacy by hurried humming.

1710 Among the more Jazzy of the Themes in Annabel’s convent composition book, I found “Earthquakes,” “Italy,” “St. Francis Xavier.” The subjects had a familiar ring.

1711 Father Barrow told me of a pious nun who opened the regents examinations in advance and showed it to her class so that Catholic children might make a good showing to the glory of God.

1712 Young Alec Seymore wrote a story and read it to me. It was about a murderer who after the crime was “greatly abashed at what he had done.”

1713 Notes of Childhood:
Make a noise like a hoop and roll away
She’s neat ha ha
Grandfather’s whiskers
Aha, she laughed
Annex rough house
Hume against Lock
Changing Voice
Hot dogs
Hair oily and pumps from notes
Miss Sweet’s school
Folwell Paulson
Each Bath
Writing in class
It’s one thing to call a man
Story of dirty shirt
Trick show lemonade stand


Baby’s Arms Buttercup
Tulip Time Rose of No Man’s Land
Dardenella How You Going to Keep ’em
Hindustan Long Long Trail
After You’ve Gone Mlle from Armentieres
I’m Glad I could Make My Buddy
Smiles Home Fires
Down to Meet You in a Taxi Want to go home
Shimmee Madelon
Wait Till the Cows Come Home Joan of Arc
Shimmee Shake or Tea Over There
So Long Letty We Don’t Want the Melon
Why do they call them babies God Help Kaiser Bill
Goodbye Alexander Belguim Rose
Nobody Knows All around the Barnyad Rag
Dear Heart  
Pretty girl like melody (1920)  

1715 Poem
Une fois
ma mere a moi
habitait pres de Java
mais je ne suis pas
une javanaise. Reflechissey—y tout a votre. Elle vivait
dans une cabane
aise reconvene de feuilles de banane
une fois j’allais la voir
avec un petit chien noir
car la bas il n’e ont que des blancs
avec des poils vert a leur flancs.
Une Maison de ler arrondissement est a vendre a la mairee
au bas prix
de 12 louis Ainsi disont une petite bonhomme du ler
seizieme siecles (Scottie)

1716 Italian woman who stole my boat at Placid

1749 Three outside phones )
                                         )—In Scottie’s house.
       Three inside phones )

1774 The Bowes children were excited to ride in a train—plane commonplace.

1789 Mimi McLeish on “Little Masters & Little Monsters”.

(Appendix) Loose Notes [with the material for The Last Tycoon.]

1812 My remark about 2 beautiful girls is a drama—fifty is only a chorus.

1813 Something a little sad about it like woman of fifty in flesh colored stockings.

1814 Most women would rather hope I think—they are good hopers.

1815 It was midsummer, summer in the dangerous age, when there is nothing more to expect from it and people try to live in the present—or if there is no present to invent one. (used?)

1816 Early August is for imprudent loves and impulsive and unmotivated crimes. (used?)

1817 Career—a story about John Bishop.

1818 Story idea. Joe-Kiki-Ruth girl has loads of old letters, is all set, needs old neglected beau, vamps him (she thinks). He takes her to country + excuses himself.
Follow him to her house, keys, letters, plane ect
Her discovery.

1819 Ernest would always give a helping hand to a man on a ledge a little higher up.

1820 For a Bishop Story
x was so far down now that almost anything you said of him was liable to be true. Just like when he was way up nothing that anyone said against him was liable to be true. Even if it were true it sounded like jealousy. He was always a little afraid that x might be good after all and they might dig him up. There would be a picture of x green and jabbering in a corner of the gallery. It was not a picture he would like his boys to see.
I sat there with blue hair and one eye—that was the night King called up + let me down.

1821 The body gets down and crouches in a corner of itself and says ’You’re doing this to me. I’ll make you pay’ and you say never mind—stay down there.

1822 Two people go away—and they take it along with them. Silence falls—nobody has any lines. Silence and trying not to guess behind the silence—imitating how it was before, and more silence—and big wrinkles in the heart.

1823 Come in! Come in!
And have a Micky Finn.

1824 Dick Scheyer and the sword.

1825 Ernest Hemingway and Ernest Lubitsch—Dotty “We’re all shits.”

1826 In thirty-four and thirty-five the party line crept into everything except the Sears Roebuck Catalogue.

1827 Drinking gives a sort of steely completion.

1828 The cleverly expressed opposite of any generally accepted human idea is worth a fortune to somebody.

1829 Max Perkins didn’t want to leave himself lying around.

1830 A cadence started in his head like a motor warming up. That was one way—to get something to it—the word, the name, the shape of the sky get it quickly. The other way was to start with the thing, to be profoundly affected by it, until it stretched elongated, stood up and walked.

1831 When you once get to the point where you don’t care whether you live or die—as I did—it’s hard to come back to life. Compton McKenzie for instance. It’s hard to believe in yourself again—you have slain part of yourself.

1832 My blue dream of being in a basket like a kite held by a rope against the wind.

1833 The trained nurse stood gazing into the medicine closet. “I wonder what the hell medicine to give him,” she muttered to herself. “They all look like the same old horse poison to me.” She wishes the labels were written in American so she could tell what the drugs were for. She considered shutting her eyes and picking one at random with a pointing finger but some might be poison and she did not dare.

1834 Before death thoughts from crack-up. Do I look like death (in mirror at 6 p.m.)

1835 Prayers are punctuations and reminders.

1836 But he never forgot—he was forever haunted by the picture of the girl floating slowly out over the city at dusk, buoyed up by delicious air, by a quintessence of golden hope, like a soaring and unstable stock issue.

1837 The two young men quit jobs as hotel clerks and lay around the beach all summer on nine dollars a week unemployment insurance. One of them turned down a job at forty but he had fun. But the old barber who had mental troubles and physical troubles and financial troubles oh and everything in hell the matter with him—they told him to scram out of there quick.

1838 Walk her from the room by the seat of her sea-green slacks.

1839 A miraculous little stranger from the stratosphere—so apt at spreading the infection of whatever she loved or laughed at—that he suddenly understood why the world forgave her for not being a really great beauty.

1840 Listening to a stealthy treacherous purr creep into his voice.

1841 People here seemed to want to get out in the country and cling, instead of really going places.

1842 Shipping out the papers in her possession by means of the little granddaughter who innocently lights a stuffed candle at church every Sunday evening.

1843 Somebody repeats: Baby, I tore him in two. A bored man: (later) Did you partition him?

1844 The pulp writer—that superficial hysteria which he substitutes for emotion.

1845 And you so beautiful with your hair in clasp on clasp of gold.

1846 The people of Hollywood are not very nice outwardly— there is too much unwelcome familiarity, too much casual snootiness. (the agent who picked up paper in the office).

1847 It’s fun to stretch and see the blue heavens spreading once more, spreading azure thighs for adventure.

1848 That spoonful of magic which is allowed us once or twice in life.

1849 I wouldn’t go to a war—unless it was in Morocco—or the Khyber Pass.

1850 It was all small change, incessant nickles and dimes of conversation.

1851 A feeling of having had life pass virtually and endlessly before their eyes like a motion picture reel and give it that much attention.

1852 If their souls are alive they no longer speak or perhaps it is that I have grown deaf.

1853 Malibu: A bunch of dressing cabins for people who can’t swim. (look up and see if it’s mine or DeMille’s)

1854 The man in the taxi with his single hand gesturing.

1855 Something like a drunk’s “I just want to tell you one thing.”

1856 She’s a one-girl jazz age.

1857 Virginia has lovely puffed straw hair and the grey eyes of home—she was a late developer, an awkward duckling at twenty-one, but learning a whole series of things that unmarried women don’t. At twenty-seven her charm was in full flower.

1858 Mrs. Whitney phoning Virginia about her thoroughbreds—twenty thousand dollars a day.

1859 Organizing the thoughtless.

1860 If you have an inconvenient opinion they name it like a disease and quarantine you.—“I’m a what?”

1861 For Mankiewicz—the ten days that shook down the world.

1862 The writers at Ted Paramore’s were all in low gear, temporarily or permanently.

1863 Scottie: “mousing around” (in regard to a quiet couple.)

1864 You drew people right up close to you and held them there, not able to move either way.

1865 The flickering patches of white on the jockeys made it look like a flight of birds.

1866 And went down to the lake for a dip, swimming on an unreal surface that existed between a world of water like mist and a drizzling firmament of air.

1867 Tragedy of these men was that nothing in their lives had really bitten deep at all.

1868 Bald Hemingway characters.

1869 He was so old, so wise that he looked forward only to his anticipations. Oh God give me good anticipations.

1870 Strong women wept into their vichysoisse.

1871 In life too much luck, in drama too much destiny.

1872 Dolly had done her worst suffering on the boat in an economical way she had, it was weeks before George saw her eyes silvery clear in the morning.

1873 Which Vanderbilt—the one with the boat mouth, the horse and the scrambled teeth.

1874 Turkey Burger (Gerald)

1875 He had met the two Lindbergs and thought them dazed and tragic spooks. and. . . and. .

1876 He’s got four-legged caviar in his pantry.

1877 She wore a little summer number from Saks, about $18.98 and a pink and blue hat that had been stepped on on one side.

1878 You’re all the songs

1879 Most of us could be photographed from the day of our birth to the day of our death and the film shown without producing any emotion except boredom and disgust. It would all just look like monkeys scratching. How do you feel about your friends’ home movies of their baby or their trip. Isn’t it a God awful bore?

1880 Behaviorism—the only guide to the validity of emotion.

1881 Like many men he did not like flowers except a few weedy ones—they were too highly evolved and self conscious. But he liked leaves and horse chestnuts and peeled twigs and even acorns, unripe, ripe and wormy fruit.

1882 I always like the horse chestnuts and leaves better than flowers.

1883 A howling dog outside made sound effects for her nightmares—whatever she heard in her dreams it turned out to be the dog (unfunny ghoulish ones—invert and rewrite).

1884 There is no book for beautiful women.

1885 Peter Powdirblugh.

1886 When I saw Scottie and the boy with the pimply face in the launch and realized to my dismay (and jealously) that she liked him. He was alive to her.

1887 Don’t ever go Dalton. This is an Idea for Princeton Alumni Weekly

1888 Hope of Heaven. He didn’t bite off anything to chew on. He just began chewing with nothing in his mouth.

1889 My plan about the reissue of Paradise with changed names. (For those under Thirty Six.)

1890 Expected a great beauty—saw a billious little chippie.

1891 One of those mysterious people like “that lady” to whom her mother took the little squares she had crocheted every month and “that woman” told her how to put them together.

1892 The shorts of the men carving. The short of the Boston college Dressing room. “You think you can stick it out o’Rourke? I think I can coach.”

1893 Fastest typist isn’t best secretary. Swinburne. Trick golfer with watch, lightening calculator, kicker, et. Faulkner and Wolfe are those.

1894 Indian’s Names: Extended Tail feather—Sweet Corn— John Other Day.

1895 Bloody Pope and Bradley britches full of exploded guts lying over the battlefied of the Dardenelles.

1896 Tough producer about taking you. “Whatsa matter with the guy—I had my first dose at fifteen.”

1897 It was rather like the autumn page from the kitchen calendars of thirty years ago with blue instead of brown October eyes.

1898 He sat in his office writing a long letter to Jill and then set fire to it in the cold stove, but the flue was closed and the smoke curled into the room. He listened to the milkman’s hour on the radio and when his window turned grey went out into a soft crowing country morning.

1899 Eddie Mayer hates women—funny I didn’t notice it before. Like Tom Wolfe. But for different reasons. He goes to them for sexual satisfaction, but he likes men emotionally more. I don’t know how far back it reaches but certainly women play a very mean and unstable role in his plays. He admired his father excessively, I gather. He sticks with the gang. You feel that he values his conquests so that he can brag about them. Talking is his vice. He would rather confide in men though than in women. He is a gent and all mis is modified by that fact. He is extremely likeable and liked. His talent is not exactly thin, like Dotty’s and so many Jewish and Irish talents—it is simply infrequent. He needs years to dream. I do not know him well. I surprised myself by the regurgitation of the idea that he was a physical coward. I don’t know at all.

1900 Sid Perleman is effete—new style. He has the manners of Gerald Murphy and almost always an exquisite tact in prose that borders on the precieuse. I feel that he and I (as with John O’Hara and the football-glamor-confession complex) have some early undisclosed experience in common so that at this point in our lives we find each other peculiarly sympathetic. We do not need to talk.
Sheilah noted his strange grace doing his interpretation of “Slythy” in the Charade the other night.
I like his brother-in-law West. I wonder if he’s long-winded as a defense mechanism. I think that when I am that’s why. I don’t want to be liked or to teach or to interest. That is my way of saying “Don’t like me—I want to go back into my dream.”
I know Nat through his books which are morbid as hell, doomed to the underworld of literature. But literature. He reminds me of someone. That heaviness. But in the other person it could be got used to—in Nat it has no flashes except what I see in his eyes, in his foolish passion for that tough and stupid child Mc———. Sid knows what I know so well that it would be blasphemy to put it in conversation.

1901 John O’Hara is in a perpetual state of just having discovered that it’s a lousy world. Medium is always as if the blow had struck him half an hour before and he’s still dulled by the effect. Nunally J— says that he’s like an idiot to whom someone has given a wonderful graflex camera and he goes around with it not knowing what to snap.

1902 The big statue of Eleayer, wondering whether he’d squash down by the end of the carnival and give a funny effect with his face.

1903 They made love. For a moment they made love as no one ever dares to do after. Their glance was closer than an embrace, more urgent than a call. There were no words for it. Had there been, and had Mae heard them, she would have fled to the darkest corner of the ladies’ washroom and hid her face in a paper towel. What was it they said? Did you hear it? Can you remember?

1904 The English will never make snappy pictures until they stop breaking off football games to have tea.

1905 Kiki’s remark about “being one of us”.

1906 Witty but faintly intoxicated with herself in her old role of disturber of the peace.

1907 Our pathetic childish vanity that we share with actors.

1908 I wish he’d get run over by a school bus.

1909 Her brown legs stayed tentaviely hoveringly on the brown doorstrip. She rocked suddenly on her heels as if about to throw a forward pass.

1910 I think the level of novelty and entertainment is so low that I don’t think adults go when they feel good—they go when they feel bad. They go as for an anaesthesia as to the speakeasy—expecting bad liquor and not able to care. I saw a John Garfield picture last night that was a tenth carbon copy of his old ones. They can’t tell me that feebs who will swallow that have funds enough for first run movie houses.

1911 After Margaret B. talks Sarah says “There can’t be that many words.”

1912 Title: The One About the Farmer’s Daughter.

1913 Axel plot for movie

1914 Death of de Martel.

1915 I talk with the authority of failure—Ernest with the authority of success. We could never sit across the table again.

1916 She didn’t understand when she used the word “ruthless” about me, that the word means something else to those Finance-Jews. They must have sneered in their hearts.

1917 Once when you were strong, you gave me the luxury of loving you most, of even being cruel in a small little vain or impartial way. When you were weak, you came to me, nosing into my arms like a puppy. But later it was different. You used your strong times to edge away from me—break out a new world of your own where I was excluded. Your weak times belonged to me, but you had forgotten all the words that had melted me.

1918 People like Ernest and me were very sensitive once and saw so much that it agonized us to give pain. People like Ernest and me love to make people very happy, caring desperately about their happiness. And then people like Ernest and me had reactions and punished people for being stupid, etc., etc. People like Ernest and me————

1919 That moment I felt from time to time with Zelda that she has unravelled the whole skien—that I am speaking with the lightly rolled skien before me, not wanting to disturb it. That even in my most alone and savage and atavistic moment I am doing so. Note Rousseau went a little crazy after finishing the Contract Sociale.

1920 I wasn’t precocious, I was merely impatient (or hurried?)

1921 Arthur Kober type of Jew without softness. Certainly a Jewish character of that type. Trying to realize himself outside of Jewry.

1922 Longfellow—his best line stolen from a lapland song.

1923 Scottie and I pupils at same school.

1924 Tom Fast’s story of Ernest.

1925 The smell in the Wool worth article.

1926 “Dear Lester: —I just love to write you letters. I have fun. How are you? My grandmother sent me a new pencil and paper today so I thought I would write you a letter.
To put it snappily, etc., etc.
Is this not a sweet letter? My grandma was good to send the pencil and paper.
The Punk.”

1927 Although earlier in the day she had spoken sympathetically of her father, later, she said scornfully: “He’s nuts”. Her statement to police was salted with schoolgirl slang—such as “Mother started to ’conk’ me.”
Almost absentmindedly, when she revisited the house of death, Chloe strummed the keys of the small organ Davis had bought for his children: she called attention to the three pairs of roller skates on the porch, to the dolls of the slain younger children and to the books in her own room.
“I’m a bookworm,” she confided. “I read all the time.” She admitted that neither of her parents ever had been cruel to her: she insisted that she loved her sisters and her brother deeply.

1928 Another world war victim (wooden leg) went crooked after a successful career today, shot himself. Innocent and worthy as Warren Groat.

1929 Young married misery.

1930 My latest medico-legal monograph. The Corpse with the Floating Kidney.

1931 Miss Foodstuffs.

1932 How to Read is the biggest fake since Van Loon Art. Now that Mencken has retired the boys who really hate books and pictures are creeping out of their sinecures again and trying to make them into specimens for dissection.

1933 From New Yorker: Moradino Juice
Clery, lettuche, Radmishes
Mardinos oglivies
Can of Fishy Gue
Chuckmes for dessert

1934 You don’t have to know much if you’re ignorant because you’re very content with what you know.

1935 Fragment
Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party
But I shall not come to the aid of the party—any party.
For we and the Jews are going to be butchered
We the liberals because we were too kind, the Jews because they were too wise.
Wisdom and kindness are crimes against the spirit of life
We should know that who were raised in the school of scrapping.

1936 You’ll be reckless if you
You’ll be reckless if you don’t
You’ll be happy if you
You won’t be happy if you won’t.

1937 Kyle Forsite in Concrete.

1938 Sweden is going to give the Nobel Peace prize to Russia—and they better do it damn quick

1939 Titles:—My Own Race Prejudices
The Position of the Political Nance during the World Crisis.

1940 The day it tipped over (le Seizieme)

1941 Today is Friday and in the back of Epictetus.

1942 March Family, Hat Family, Halegen Family

1943 False build-up of stimulants. They endure from 11:30 p.m. to 11:30 a.m. correspondingly.

1944 Behind him a one man epedemic coughed, sneezed and rocked the seats ahead in his agony.

1945 Story Idea: Find a drug good for two things and you have a climax. For instance: if pareldehyde or chloral were also ink eradicators.

1946 Story Idea: (New Yorker) Scientist tells family his theory that deprived for X days of salt or sunshine or water (McSweeney) or forced to eat, would turn people black—they quarrel. So they turn. Top is tails (?)

1947 Advice to young writers—Read Tolstoi, Marx and D. H. Lawrence and then read Tolstoi Marx and D.H. Lawrence.

1948 Play laid in a publisher’s office.

1949 Money in bonds. Finale Welles’ broadcast.

1950 Tell the story of the Alex Haine study hall disturbance. But as if it were a riot. Call it controll. Only disclose at end that they were boys.

1951 To describe an apparently dastardly character like the turn coat in Janice Meredith and then show he is the real hero of the whole thing, the most politically progressive and class conscious. This is really a grand idea; a series including this and Philippe might be built around it. It is the recalitrant peasant in Phillipe who splits from him in disgust + is the father of peasants.

1952 Changing my channels of avidity s.g.

1953 In the haut bourgoise or feudal it’s called cruelty—
In the petit or middle: bad taste
In the proletariat: vulgarity?
But it’s the same thing
Tommy’s cruelty—me and Joe McKibbey
S’s talk of Z and of human functions.
This is interesting too because it shows classes in movement. Why and where I caught a petit bourgoise attitude I don’t know. But it’s not like Dot’s and Don’s who revolted from being eternal poor relations.

1954 A story to show how a person of the 16th century had to look up things—by kindness and friendliness, by travel and effort—and, since Diderot—

1955 For Pat: Vacuum bomb—His sister.

1956 Paderewsky Sees—Paderewski Sees
All right now! All right now! You better take a look yourself. Ignace Jan Paderewski the celebrated pianist and president of the Assembly of the Polish Parliament in exile, declared today in a broadcast to “my American friends” that the war will “end in the ultimate victory of right and justice.” —Paris, Jan 29.

1957 Anatomy research was interrupted by Alexander the Great

1958 English political history—Peterloo 1819-1885.

1959 Play about Woodrow Wilson Title “I suppose”.

1960 You’re going to hit somebody with that teething ring. You’re going to stick your rattle in somebody’s eye.

1961 Don’t lose your temper or your nose will get as red as your eyes.

1962 The trouble is you can take it but you can’t hand it out anymore.

1963 Call waiter and the Germans will come running.

1964 Don’t kid yourself—you’re so bougeoise you smell of cheap caviar.

1965 Masterpieces of American Poetry by Mark Van Doren. He opened it to his astonishment upon a group of eight poems by Mark Van Doren. Rising from his couch he scissored these out and put them in the Johnny but finding Mr. Van Doren’s selections as uninspired as the impertinence, he laid the book away. Life was difficult. Thsi ubiquitous feeb or was it his brother actually influenced American sales through the Book of the Month Club.

1966 Miss X who gets around a lot says all the good writers think that Van Doren—the one who put his own poems in an anthology—is an ignorant man. And that the artists spit blood about Van Loon’s History of the Arts with his own illustrations. The Dutch are condescending. He does not think much of the Book of the Month., etc.

1967 I have decided to buy in all my outstanding books.

1968 D.P.—The only girl so mean she had to hire a male nurse.

1969 Those comics going—without emphasis.

1970 She was dead but she ran around the room for ten or fifteen seconds, skidding in her own blood but managing to keep her feet while some sound kept trying to come through her blood choked throat. Then she crashed down flat as if she had fallen a thousand feet.

1971 You were—too good to be true. That was—the matter with you.

1972 Idea about composition of a squad. Average bravery and tenacity of men.

1973 As a novelist I reach out to the end of all man’s variance, all man’s villainy—as a man I do not go that far. I cannot claim honor—but even the knights of the Holy Grail were only striving for it, as I remember.

1974 Native Son—A well written penny dreadful with the apparent moral that it is good thing for the cause when a feeble minded negro runs amuck.

1975 Let Richard Whitney out
New Republic Anthology

1976 What we have given Europe.

1977 Film called Nice People to include baby talk idea and child’s day. A grave but not a tragic thing happens—he hits a cop, almost by accident.

1978 Play like “L’apprenti sorcerer”. Young lawyer blunders in on corporation deal. Using Arnold.

1979 Ideas on Fear as being removed as well as profit motive. We know the latter can—but the former. Some day when the psycho-an are forgotten E.H. will be read for his great studies into fear.

1980 Against Free Speech.

1981 Story note: Trunk of clothes sent to France creating an era.

1982 Biography is the falsest of the arts. That is because there were no Keatzians before Keats, no Lincolnians before Lincoln.

1983 That eternal Ghetto that we love.

1984 Nun with a floating kidney.

1985 A fag—his ups and downs like Amorous (Martin) and others—humility and fatalism.

1986 The psychoanalysts again and Herman M—.

1987 As soon as a man is made a producer he gets to be two things—a son-of-a-bitch and Bernard Shaw.

1988 A man who’s been drunk and wakes up at 40 looking at things through new eyes, meeting same people and scenes and contrasting them with what they were.

1989 Inside my Plaster Cast—how it became a home to me. I can’t tell you what went on inside that cast—(no wise cracks, please; no form of dry land insect could possibly have lived there, although a small tropical minnow might have carried on at a subsistence level.)

1990 On Charlie Mac—He’s my grandfather—I’m his. All right, we’re not brothers anymore. Let’s leave it at that. No diminution of affection, simply a diminution of communicability.

1991 Nathan and dirty movie in France.

1992 We have 3 feet of snow and the place looks like Sun Valley with girls in mink coats and slacks and dark glasses.

1993 In a vague way seemed to have been to “Parus” but never in any country that approximated France.

1994 That cruel old man’s mouth refined down to a girl’s— sweet and filled out just a little toward conventional beauty.

1995 Ernest and “Farewell to Arms”—producer story.

1996 An inferiority complex comes simply from not feeling you’re doing the best you can—Ernest’s “drink” was simply a form of this.

1997 Gag with cork tip cigarette.

1998 Communists asks you to accept a simplification that is itself a distortion—a mystical belief in a line. I believe that you could build right up through Lenin including only heretics. Just as in the Christian church you could do the same.

1999 The enemy of men is Fear—the enemy of women is pity. That was settled thousands of years before our era, so—continue about trained nurses and into situation. Men train their sons in games and women in hard guile.

2000 Story idea—Navajoes.

2001 I am the last of the novelists for a long time now.

2002 PROBLEMS: Most problems can be settled in their simpler stages and a whole lot of your problems are still in that stage. Not so suddenly that you have no pause for breath. Life becomes complex with marriage, money or something and when it gets really complex, it is absolutely insoluble except in the simplicity of the grave.

2003 Right behind the eight ball. Give. For my dough. What’ll we use for money.

2004 “Word instructive strikes horror in soul stop please not too instructive”.

2005 Develop this: Difference in conversation between Gerald Murphy and Tommy Hitchcock. Tommy doesn’t answer foolish questions or trivial questions—Gerald on the contrary, in spite of what he says about the omnipresence of bores, contrives always a little arpeggio of grace which he uses as a bridge so that no matter what is said to him he fills in the gap between the graciousness and his own talents of wit and delicacy. Trace a character who once was like Gerald and who now tends toward Tommy Hitchcock’s impatience with fools.

2006 I gotta see a hog about a plan.

2007 Dog’s name: Miss Alliance!

2008 With each lunge of the mouse she shrank back against the bedroom door.

2009 Black Scotties with heads like clowns’ hats.

2010 Jewish people are Continental, whether they think so or not.

2011 He would offer to the nation ghastly bits of conversation—dialect thinly masked as dialogue.

2012 A lady whose past was booked solid with men.

2013 He was what I think of as the Judd Grey sort of man, spectacles which made him look more than ever like any salesman—a cheap product often in a position above his capacities. A good fellow—one of the boys wearing underneath the heart of a turrp. Something that made him always carry his chin a little too high with his “inferiors” and little too low when on the spot. The alignment of features just out of focus so that “nice looking” was the best to be said of him.

2014 Girl looked like angel cake cut this morning. Clearer than Virginia Bruce.

2015 In his reign as the first citizen of Chicago, Insull was the president of eleven corporations, chairman of the boards of 65 companies and sat on the boards of 85 corporations.

2016 The flappers and the Japanese sex book.

2017 A FABLE FOR TED PARAMORE by F. Scott Fitzgerald
A great city set in a valley, desired a cathedral. They sent for an eminent architect who designed one distinguished by a great central tower. No sooner was it begun, however, than critics arose who objected to the tower calling it useless, ornamental, illogical, and what not—destroyed his plan and commissioning another architect to build a cathedral of great blocks and masses. It was very beautiful and Grecian in its purity but no one ever loved the cathedral of that city as they did those of Rome and Sienna and the great Duomo of Florence.
After thirty years wondering why, the citizens dug up the plans of the first architect (since grown famous) and built from it. From the first Mass the cathedral seized the imagination of the multitude and fools said it was because the tower pointed heavenward, etc., but one young realist decided to dig up the artist, now an old man, and ask him why.
The artist was too old to remember, he said—and he added “I doubt if I ever knew. But I knew I was right.”
“How did you know if you don’t know your reasons?”
“Because I felt good that day”, answered the architect, “and if I feel good I have a reason for what I do even if I don’t know the reason”. So the realist went away unanswered.
On that same day a young boy going to Mass with his mother quickened his step as he crossed the cathedral square.
“Oh I like our new cathedral so much better than the old”, he said.
“But the academy thinks it’s not nearly so beautiful”.
“But it’s because of the mountains”, said the little boy. “Before we had the tower I could see the mountains and they made everything seem little when you went inside the Church. Now you can’t see the mountains so God inside is more important”.
That was what the architect had envisioned without thinking when he accidentally raised his forfinger against the sky fifty years before.

2018 Burlesque on Christina Rosetti—Rover Boy Communist

2019 I wouldn’t trade her for a Sunday roll With the best strip-teaser in the gallup poll.

2020 A. You bastard.
B. I bet you never saw a bastard. I bet you wouldn’t know a bastard if you saw one.

2021 Idea: You didn’t fool anybody.

2022 You Can’t Organize Feebs
Sure you can organize the feebs. Look you can organize anything. Look at the cults in Los Angeles.
But I mean how can you keep them organized if they’re feebs.
“Keep your shirt on, said Standing. “They stay organized because you can give them a new directive every twenty four hours. They can return for twenty four hours.”
“No, they can’t. Look, I was a guard in Bloomingdale—’’
“Say, listen we’re not talking about nuts— we’re talking about feebs. Were you around during the last war—well, I was. And the average mental age of the draftees was thirteen and a half wasn’t it. So there must have been a lot age nine or ten.”
“My kid’s ten said X and he comes back from the movies complaining they’re not self-conscious. If his brain never grew up another year you couldn’t sell him a bill he didn’t believe in. Not that easy.”
“Sure—but he reads the paper doesn’t he?”
“He reads the worker.”
“Well, my idea’s dames. They don’t read any paper except the movie page. I say we can organize the feeb dames.”
“All right try it. You got nothing to do. You got to lie low till they wash up your case. I bet you five smackers you don’t have a chance. You can’t organize Feebs.”

2023 Story Ideas: Tom, Julian and the two Swiss girls.
Kill no more pigeons than you can eat. (Franklin)
The muses love the morning. (Franklin)
He is not well bred that cannot bear ill-breeding mothers. (Franklin)

2024 A sub-reptile: I don’t feel you have the brains of a bat, the sensibility of a mouse or the moral standards of a rat.

2025 Man chooses his own form of execution—chooses that the executioner be blindfolded at forty paces.

Nothing is as old as last year’s new.)
                                                      ) Born 1806.

2027 Without the brains of a bat but with a double load of intuition.

2028 Mr. Flynn is not behind the times but ahead of it—he isn’t about 350 A.D., just pre-Constantine according to the Spenglerian calendar. Another quarter century of cheap movies, radio and professional sport will undoubtedly soften up the helots even more so that we can accept his fatalism. But the time is not yet.


Marlbourough Clive
Walpole Hastings

Chatham Washington
Pitt Jefferson
Dr. Johnston Franklin
Fox or Burke? Payne

2030 Plutarch of the 18th Century. The Islanders vs. the Colonials (leaving out, of course, philosophers, scientists, artist, literary men of whom the colonists had none.

2031 There’s no such thing as a “minor” character in Dostoevski.

2032 The girl must be humble; there is a lack of humility in Wolfe, Saroyan, Schlessinger that I find as depressing as O’Hara’s glooms.

2033 Look what the cat brought in. Honey little funny little. It looks like love.

2034 Magic Leg!
Opens up like a Harp
Veterans! Throw your crotch away.
Miss S. Beanquest of Beanquest Dorm. writes. So do all the other girls in Beanquest Dorm except Fanny the Feeb.
Mrs. S.O.B.
(name on request)

2035 Special Inducement
Piccolo Juice

2036 Man who pays bill long after to pesthouse is rewarded with guard job and goes wrong.

2037 I look out at it—and I think it is the most beautiful history in the world. It is the history of me and of my people. And if I came here yesterday like Sheilah I should still think so. It is the history of all aspiration— not just the American dream but the human dream and if I came at the end of it that too is a place in the line of the pioneers.

2038 The purpose of a fiction story is to create passionate curiosity and then to gratify it unexpectedly, orgasmically. Isn’t that what we expect from all contacts?

2039 Tender is less interesting toward the climax because of the absence of conversation. The eye flies for it and skips essential stuff for they don’t want their characters resolved in dessication and analysis but like me in action that results from the previous. All the more reason for emotional planning.

2040 Congratulations on your brilliant display of human nature.

2041 Actresses have to be show offs and not look like show offs.

2042 One room slum.

2043 There is a time in the life of all great conquerors when they would gladly settle in for a safe colonelcy—but they can’t; for them it’s Victory or elimination.

2044 Child: What would you like for Xmas.
Papa: Nothing I’d rather have the money.

2045 It must be wonderful to be able to make people so happy just by leaving them.

2046 At twilight on September 3rd, 1923, a girl jumped from the 53rd story window of a New York office building. She wore a patent inflatable suit of rubber composition which had just been put on the novelty market for fun purposes—the wearer by a mere jump or push could supposedly sail over fences or street intersections. It was fully blown up when she jumped. The building was a set-back and she landed on the projecting roof of the 50th floor. She was bruised and badly shaken but not seriously hurt.

2047 Hell, the best friend I have in Hollywood is a Jew— another of my best dozen friends is a Jew. Two of the half dozen men I admire most in America are Jews and two of my half dozen best men in History are Jews. But why do they have to be so damned conceited. That minority conceit—like fairies. They go ostrich about their faults—magnify their virtues which anyone is willing to grant in the first place. They point at Benny Leonard or this war hero here and say we got pugnacity. When the nurses in the hospital admit that a Jewish patient groans at the sight of a needle. Our Mommas—God bless them. ---have been saying too long, Go out David—but don’t use your slingshot—we are in lands of peace and plenty. What she might have said had she been a seer is: “Go David—like the Celts in America—leave your “cleverness” your slingshot behind. In 1910 the Catholic nuns secretly wrote the Regents Examination on the blackboards so that their pupils would pass first. The first evangelist was a Priest who said: “Sister, you must start with personal honor
...When you hear Louis B. M----. --Jesus.

2048 Mary J. groping along beside him—(for description)

2049 Each year there is always one line worked to ad nauseum limits by scenario hacks. Last year it was “right behind the eight ball”. This year it is “boil some hot water—lots of it”. This is used in all accident scenes. I snicker now when I hear it—it occurred in Stanley and Livingston.

2050 Gentle trickling complaint behind the scarlett dress. Scenery from Petrouchka. The endless seats of the bowl, the scattered drape on the platform.

2051 Heritage—Isn’t he dead—he was alive the last time I saw him.

2052 Perfect people have no rhythm. The shy type, the religious type. That’s why I don’t like them. It is a rhythmic question.     

2053 When there is a reunion of two people who have once meant a lot to each other—first comes a fine recapitulation of the past and then each thinks “we’ll go on” and the time of readjustment has come. They have remembered only the best, forgetting it was picked out from a time of ordinariness, forgetting that the ordinariness was pleasant expecting the ball to roll of itself as it once did—and miserable in a vast human silence.

2054 The great homosexual theses—that all great pansies were pansies.

2055 The earth was not marvelous enough so people listened to Eliza and Joseph Smith. But the universe, discovered thru science is too marvelous—so we listen to them again. Truth—with your old black widows weeds from the death of illusion—truth must we avoid you always. (Answer: Yes!)

2056 To start her weary rounds between the divorce court, the abortionist and the sanitarium. What a pity—for any smart person with a little money and a little luck ought to have a keen time till they’re thirty. After that——

2057 List of people, classes I’ve quarrelled with.

2058 In Fisher’s Mormon Book there are interesting questions of tempo contrary to the dramatic assumptions or at least uneasy to answer in dramatic terms. For example: at the end we get the brave men yeilding—how does Fisher show the background of that to unbelievers. I know it is true—but there is lack of art. On the other hand, in dramatic inevitability such as a Kauffman scenario or an expert picture there is too much inevitability.

2059 Remember Dave S’s Algier book and utterly sincere advice to Bud S.

2060 As I grow older I become increasingly a devotee of the “Mandiean Heresey” which was to regard humanity as a two-faced creation—and to give God and the Devil opposite if not equal attributes. That is to say: to give good and evil as a proportionate sway in every man. This feeling plays, of course, into the hands of the determinists into the cheating fingers of luck.

2061 The state of Metro.

2062 Her letters are tragically brilliant on all matters except those of central importance. How strange to have failed as a social creature—even criminals do not fail that way—they are the laws “Loyal Opposition”, so to speak. But the insane are always mere guests on earth, eternal strangers carrying around broken dialogues that they cannot read.

2063 Ten books not to be cast away on a Desert Island with: How to repair a Linotype machine—Emerson on Friendship.

2064 Mr. Harry Haukinspit.

2065 The gay nineties, the yellow nineties were really the empty nineties.

2066 It is so to speak Ernest’s ’Tale of Two Cities’ though the comparison isn’t apt. I mean it is a thoroughly superficial book which has all the profundity of Rebecca.

2067 When Dotty took the veil.

2068 I want to write scenes that are frightening and inimitable. I don’t want to be as intelligible to my contemporaries as Ernest who as Gertrude Stein said, is bound for the Museums. I am sure I am far enough ahead to have some small immortality if I can keep well.

2069 It was a pale, even spiritual face lit reverently with great brown eyes, but the pointed ears and the corners of the mouth were puckish and grotesque and the smile with which he greeted Josephine said plainly enough that they were all three characters in a ghastly joke, and that he was glad she understood it from the beginning. “One of those crazy men,” she thought to herself—”

2070 Action is character.

2071 Fitzgerald you keep on as if that class still existed, etc.. From a Review and Auden quotation.

2072 Brought up on a life of leisurely crime.

2073 Hoped I look like ) Trying to look like) A Petty drawing.

2074 When better women are made I will make them.

2075 Man takes cocktail ranch at the Beverly Wilshire.

2076 Feel a girl’s skull and she becomes a human being.

2077 They’re Swell people—an essay on softness.

2078 She first discovered love in her throat.

Introduction by Matthew J. Bruccoli

We know more about F. Scott Fitzgerald than about any other American writer of this century because he was a compulsive self-historiographer. More than authorial ego compelled him to document himself so fully and so painfully. These Notebooks were his workshop and chronicle. They were his literary bankroll. They were also his confessional.

Fitzgerald had a keen awareness of history—and of himself as the product of history. He understood that he was an exemplary figure (serving as a pattern; serving as a warning; serving as a type). Perhaps he even sensed what the mytho-historical process would later make of him. The Notebooks were assembled not during the Twenties when Fitzgerald seemed to have the Midas touch, but during the Thirties when everything that he touched crumbled. They document three periods: the writing of Tender Is the Night (1932-1934), the Crack-Up (1935-1937), and the Hollywood exile with the comeback of The Last Tycoon (1937-1940). This was a time of self-assessment for Fitzgerald—a time of endings. The concept of “lastness” echoes through Fitzgerald’s life and work. He wrote about “The Last of the Belles” and The Last Tycoon. In the Notebooks he observed, “I am the last of the novelists for a long time now. “This designation may be understood in terms of his allegiances to older American values. Fitzgerald may have been the last novelist committed to belief in the promises and possibilities of American life. He saw himself as coming at the end of a complex American historical process and identified with it. Malcolm Cowley has noted that it was as though Fitzgerald wrote in a room full of clocks and calendars. (He did, in fact, have an historical chart on his study wall.) Moreover, Fitzgerald accepted the symbolic roles that were assigned to him. He was fortune’s darling in the Jazz Age—which he named. He was the shell-shocked casualty of the Depression.

The term “fragile” has often been applied to Fitzgerald. But, as these Notebooks show, his talent had tensile strength. It may have been the strength of weakness, but his talent did not break. At the end of his life Fitzgerald was writing as well as ever, and The Last Tycoon endures as the most heart-breaking fragment in American literature.

There are many impressive qualities in the Notebooks—wit, pathos, imagination, sensitivity—yet the dominant impression is of Fitzgerald’s literary intelligence. One of his stereotyped images is that he was an ignorant genius who did not understand his gift. His Notebooks correct that sloppy assumption. Although he bitterly regretted that he had been an indifferent custodian of his genius, he understood profoundly well the claims of his craft. F. Scott Fitzgerald on the subject of writing merits close attention. As James Dickey has testified, “These Notebooks make writers of us all.”

As a Princeton undergraduate F. Scott Fitzgerald acquired a copy of The Note-Books of Samuel Butler (New York: Dutton, [1917]) on 14 April 1917. At this time he had formed the ambition to become one of the greatest writers who ever lived and was seeking models for literary conduct. On 19 September 1919 Fitzgerald inscribed his copy: “The most interesting human document ever written.” This testimonial was written the day after Fitzgerald received Maxwell Perkins’s letter accepting This Side of Paradise for publication by Scribners—indicating that he had returned to Butler’s Note-Books for guidance.

It is not known when Fitzgerald began assembling his Notebooks. The evidence suggests that it was after May 1932, when he moved to “La Paix” outside of Baltimore. One of the binders was purchased from Meyer & Thalheimer, a Baltimore stationer. At “La Paix” Fitzgerald hired his first secretary, one of whose duties was to type the entries for the Notebooks. Fitzgerald did not type; all the entries were typed by his secretaries. Although he added to them for the rest of his life, Fitzgerald does not seem to have been compulsive about maintaining his Notebooks—as the miscellaneous late notes appended here indicate. The Notebooks were probably regarded as something to occupy his secretaries whenever there was no pressing work.

Fitzgerald began keeping his Notebooks with a special purpose in mind. He needed a place in which to bank the strippings from his short stories—as well as to record ideas or observations. When Fitzgerald determined that one of his stories was not to be reprinted, he culled from it the passages he regarded as worth using in a novel. These passages were preserved in his Notebooks. One of the main functions of the editorial material in this edition is to identify the story strippings. Some are from abandoned stories and cannot be identified. Others have no doubt eluded the editor.

Edmund Wilson included sixty percent of the Notebooks entries in The Crack-Up (New York: New Directions, 1945), with alterations. The present edition publishes the complete Notebooks, to which is appended a selection from the loose notes that are now with The Last Tycoon manuscripts at the Princeton University Library. Most of these loose notes—typed or in Fitzgerald’s hand— are related to the work-in-progress on the unfinished Hollywood novel, but some are of a general nature. The editor has made a selection from these miscellaneous notes, restricting himself to those which do not seem to bear directly on The Last Tycoon.

The Notebooks of F. Scott Fitzgerald is not “The most interesting human document ever written”; but it is one of the most interesting and usable documents we have from a writer from whom we can never have too much.

Editorial Note

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Notebooks at the Princeton University Library are in two spring binders with alphabetized index separators. The pages are typed on 8 1/2’’x 11” white paper—except for yellow sheets 1-17 inserted after Z. The white sheets are unnumbered, and it is possible that they are not now in their original order.

Fitzgerald did not number the entries in his Notebooks. The identification numbers have been supplied by the editor to facilitate reference.

This volume publishes the complete Notebooks from the two binders with a selection of miscellaneous notes. The notes are printed without emendation—except for obvious typewriter spacing problems and strike-overs (”inthe” is printed as “in the”; “t he is printed as “the”). Spaced hyphens are treated as dashes. All brackets are Fitzgerald’s brackets. Notes that he deleted have been omitted. Because the Notebooks were typed by secretaries from batches of Fitzgerald’s holograph notes and magazine tearsheets, a number of entries were repeated. This edition of the Notebooks does not include repeated entries—except in cases where the repetition may have been intended for use in different contexts: see entries 348 and 1179, 512 and 1903. Notes that Fitzgerald marked for transfer to other sections have been moved. The “Supple­mentary Notes” include Fitzgerald’s letter designations indicating the Notebooks sections into which he intended to insert each entry. When Fitzgerald corrected a typed entry in holograph, it has been printed as he corrected it. The significance of Fitzgerald’s starred notes has not been determined, but his stars have been retained. Check marks have been omitted. (Andrew Turnbull added circles or zeros in the margins of the Notebooks to indicate entries that were not included in The Crack-Up. These marks have not been retained.)

The following people helped me: Alexander Clark, Glenda Fedricci, Michael Havener, Carol Johnston, Laura Myers, Harriet Oglesbee, Mardel Pacheco, Jean Rhyne, Peter Shepherd, Agnes Sherman, Willard Starks, Susan Walker, Joyce Werner, and Cara White. I owe a great debt to the Department of Special Collections at the Princeton University Library: this volume could not have been published without the generous assistance of Richard Ludwig and his efficient staff. And I am especially obligated to Karen Rood, who collaborated with me on the explanatory notes.

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