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Gatsby college dating guide

Twenty milesfrom the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contourand separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the mostdomesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere,the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound.They are notperfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they areboth crushed flat at the contact end—but their physicalresemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to thegulls that fly overhead.

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come tothe admission that it has a limit.And justafter the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.Her husband, among various physical accomplishments,had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played footballat New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of thosemen who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-onethat everything afterward savors of anticlimax.I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, anda little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migrationknown as the Great War.I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughlythat I came back restless.The Carraways aresomething of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’redescended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actualfounder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who camehere in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, andstarted the wholesale hardware business that my father carrieson to-day.

I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look likehim—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled paintingthat hangs in father’s office.

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CHAPTER IIn my younger and more vulnerable years my father gaveme some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind eversince.“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me,“just remember that all the people in this world haven’t hadthe advantages that you’ve had.”He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusuallycommunicative in a reserved way, and I understood that hemeant a great deal more than that.

And I had the high intention of readingmany other books besides.

I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorialsfor the Yale News—and now I was going to bring backall such things into my life and become again that most limitedof all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’tjust an epigram—life is much more successfully looked atfrom a single window, after all.

Myhouse was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented fortwelve or fifteen thousand a season. Gatsby, it was a mansion, inhabited by a gentleman ofthat name.