“
But his
heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesque and
fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night. A universe
of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the
clock ticked on the wash-stand and the moon soaked with wet
light his tangled clothes upon the floor. Each night he added
to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon
some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For a while these
reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a
satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that
the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy’s
wing.
—F Scott
Fitzgerald | ‘The Great Gatsby’
