You'll Lose It, If You Talk About

About Morals, I Know Only That What Is Moral Is What You Feel Good After And What Is Immoral Is What You Feel Bad After.

And You Treat Me Wonderfully And Keep All Your Promises.

The Further You Go In Writing The More Alone You Are. Most Of Your Best And Oldest Friends Die. Others Move Away. You Do Not See Them Except Rarely, But You Write And Have Much The Same Contact With Them As Though You Were Together At The Café In The Old Days. You Exchange Comic, Sometimes Cheerfully Obscene And Irresponsible Letters, And It Is Almost As Good As Talking. But You Are More Alone Because That Is How You Must Work And The Time To Work Is Shorter All The Time And If You Waste It You Feel You Have Committed A Sin For Which There Is No Forgiveness.

My Training Was Never To Drink After Dinner Nor Before I Wrote Nor While I Was Writing.

When I Had Finished The Book I Knew That No Matter What Scott Did, Nor How He Behaved, I Must Know It Was Like A Sickness And Be Of Any Help I Could To Him And Try To Be A Good Friend. He Had Many Good, Good Friends, More Than Anyone I Knew. But I Enlisted As One More, Whether I Could Be Of Any Use To Him Or Not. If He Could Write A Book As Fine As The Great Gatsby I Was Sure That He Could Write An Even Better One. I Did Not Know Zelda Yet, And So I Did Not Know The Terrible Odds That Were Against Him. But We Were To Find Them Out Soon Enough.