After the house, we were to see the grounds and the swimming-pool, and the hydroplane and the mid-summer flowers —but outside Gatsby’s window it began to rain again , so we stood in a row looking at the corrugated surface of the Sound . Before I could answer, Daisy came out of the house and two rows of brass buttons on her dress gleamed in the sunlight What grass?” he inquired blankly. “Oh, the grass in the yard.” He looked out the window at it, but, judging from his expression, I don’t believe he saw a thing.

You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.” Creating an annotated bibliography calls for the application of a variety of intellectual skills: concise exposition, succinct analysis, and informed library research. The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west , and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea.

Recommended

Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy , moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes — a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house , had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder. Michaelis had seen this too, but it hadn’t occurred to him that there was any special significance in it. He believed that Mrs. Wilson had been running away from her husband, rather than trying to stop any particular car. My own face had now assumed a deep tropical burn. I couldn’t muster up a single commonplace out of the thousand in my head.

It was Gatsby’s father, a solemn old man, very helpless and dismayed, bundled up in a long cheap ulster against the warm September day . His eyes leaked continuously with excitement, and when I took the bag and umbrella from his hands he began to pull so incessantly at his sparse gray beard that I had difficulty in getting off his coat. He was on the point of collapse, so I took him into the music room and made him sit down while I sent for something to eat. But he wouldn’t eat, and the glass of milk spilled from his trembling hand. I began to walk about the room, examining various indefinite objects in the half darkness . A large photograph of an elderly man in yachting costume attracted me, hung on the wall over his desk.It was on the two little seats facing each other that are always the last ones left on the train. I was going up to New York to see my sister and spend the night. He had on a dress suit and patent leather shoes, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked at me I had to pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station he was next to me, and his white shirt-front pressed against my arm , and so I told him I’d have to call a policeman, but he knew I lied. I was so excited that when I got into a taxi with him I didn’t hardly know I wasn’t getting into a subway train. All I kept thinking about, over and over, was ‘You can’t live forever; you can’t live forever.’”