F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1928)
"There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams – not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."
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