Online Book The Great Gatsby Novels & Stories

It was a bridge between his past and our present. In the center of the room stood the crib. It was mahogany, dark and rich, polished to a mirror shine. It looked sturdy enough to survive an earthquake. And above it... Above the crib hung a mobile. But not plastic animals. It was made of delicate glass stars and... pages. I walked closer. The "stars" were folded from paper. "Are those..." I reached out to touch one. "Alex, are these book pages?" "First editions," he murmured, standing behind me. "Pride and Prejudice. Jane Eyre. The Great Gatsby."

That way no one has to bother me if they have to go to the bathroom. I sat down in my seat and placed my earphones into my ear. I take out one of my most favorite books of all time, The great gatsby. Just by looking at my copy of the book, you can see that it has been read thousands of times. My mother passed it on to me once realized that I love reading.

I sat myself down on the thin bed she had on the floor, seeing an alarm clock that had a setting of 3:30 am while she had a few books scattered throughout the area. 'The Great Gatsby' 'Nicholas Nickelby' 'Catcher in the Rye' along with a few I didn't recognize, yey they were all classics. All things that just showed how truly remarkable she was. Thumbing through the novels I was taken aback by the amount of notes she had within the margins, she was truly a remarkable person, brilliant at that. Her compassion through her hardships, her sheer unwavering love or want to be kind to others even when shunned for most of her life just proves that she was always meant to be Luna, my Luna.

Far enough to give her the space her body was still asking for. Should say something. Something helpful. Something that proved I wasn't just muscle and anger and a stick on ice. Something wise. Had nothing wise. The book was on the counter. Gatsby. The only book I owned – the one she'd made me read, the one I'd gotten a B+ on, the one that had rearranged something in my head I didn't know could move. Dog-eared. Coffee-stained. Spine cracked at the part we'd argued about during our first tutoring session.

Greta and Gabby made their way to Page Turner’s Bookstore just down the street from the Blue Moon Inn. Once inside the warmth of the large shop, Greta was surprised to see a bright modern shop, which included not only a metaphysical section, but my children’s section, too. With soft upbeat music playing in the background, it didn’t take long to find the shopkeeper chatting away to a rather wild looking dog by a fireplace.

She nod her head before I walk away to scan for books. "I hope there is that book that Dawson was referring to." I murmured to myself. I do not want to believe him when he said that I can only buy that book in New York. What an expensive outlet of reference he got there, that boo-hoo. Instead of finding that big book on the hardbound section, I notice a colorful book with green as a dominant on its book cover and its title kinds of catch my attention. "Buy Yourself the Fcking Lilies?" I murmured and started opening the book pages and saw some notes which made me conclude that it is a self-help book.

The book she’d ended up with was a first edition of The Great Gatsby, its cover embossed with gold lettering. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t hers. And when she flipped to the inside cover, she saw the name scrawled in elegant cursive: Robin Nasir. The name sent a shiver down her spine. Robin Nasir was the golden boy of Coastal Field Royal, the rich kid everyone whispered about. He was the one girl from both the private and public schools dreamed of, the one with the smirk that could make hearts skip beats. Jasmine had never paid him much mind. Boys, in her experience, were trouble. Especially ones like Robin. Her sister, Nadine, was the opposite.

When the sun the up? Oh, well. I throw my phone carefully on the blue pillow on the bed. I haven’t read in a bit, so I take one of my favorite books. Though I have read it numerous times, it’s an epic book. I run my finger on the letters on the cover page of the book. The letters reads: THE OUTSIDERS. I sigh satisfyingly and begin my book. In a minute, I’m already lost in the world of ‘Ponyboy Curtis’, the book’s narrator.

The two of them opened their books and read, serenaded by the crackling and popping of wood, the atmosphere warm and comfortable. Within the first few pages of The Great Gatsby, her mind was transported back to 1920s New York. It had been a while since she read an actual book, most of her reading pleasure dedicated to fashion magazines and social media. She hated to admit she was glad there was no Wi-Fi or cell phone service in this neck of the woods. Chris explained earlier that he wanted this place to be a rustic respite from the busyness and time-suck electronics

The next morning I walked into AP English Lit early for the first time, which was partly because I wanted to avoid hallway commentary and partly because I'd left my annotated copy of *The Great Gatsby* in the classroom the day before and needed it back before the quiz. The room was empty except for the teacher. Ms. Okafor was maybe thirty-five, with natural hair pinned up on one side and reading glasses pushed to the top of her head that she'd clearly forgotten were there. She was at her desk with a red pen moving fast across what looked like a stack of essays, and she didn't look up when I came in. "Kane. Third desk from the left, second row. Your Gatsby is under the chair." I blinked. "How