"In Harlem, the Bronx, Gramercy Park, and along the water-fronts, in little parlors or on pebble-strewn, moon-flooded roofs, a thousand lovers were making this sound, crying little fragments of it into the air. All the city was playing with this sound out there in the blue summer dark, throwing it up and calling it back, promising that, in a little while, life would be beautiful as a story, promising happiness — and by that promise giving it. It gave love hope in its own survivial. It could do no more."
▲▲▲ The Beautiful and Damned, F. Scott Fitzgerald,
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