Quote F Scott Fitzgerald For What It's Worth นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It was simply setting things right. He brushed away a few fallen leaves from the grave and exhaled. “You’d hate what I’ve done,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No more secret meetings. No more blind loyalty. No more fear.” The wind carried his words into the quiet. “You always said worth was something you inherit,” he continued. “That it came from our name. Our power. Our control.” He shook his head lightly. “But you were wrong. Worth isn’t inherited. It’s built — every day, by how you treat people, how you love them, how you live.”

“You imply the everyday employee is worth more than we here believe. How about you prove it?” My stomach twisted. I was no fool. Attempting to prove someone’s worth to a person who didn’t think they had any was a near-impossible feat. But I couldn’t back down without looking like I was standing down on my own beliefs. Everyone had value. The working class was just as feeling and worthy as those attending this high society party as guests. “I’ll prove it,” I said. At my reply, Mr. Hatfield seemed no less pleased. “We’ll see,” he said, then turned and left the group.

he heard her whispered in his ears and he creased his brow, why does it sound like she is consoling him? Anna hugged his head tightly to her chest and wondered why is it that some people don't know how to cherish something that was given to them easily, just why would Courtney do something like that and with someone like Cash, is she that stupid? "it's okay, she doesn't deserve you. She doesn't worth you. It's okay."

he added. "Is it worth the risk?". I asked him. It's more like a question for myself. Is it Worth it for me to try it again with Travis? What difference does it make? "Is he worth the risk?". he returned the question to me. "You know what tonia, sometimes all you need is to take a leap of faith. So that your life won't become a life full of 'what ifs'!". I was staring at him as I slowly processed what he said.

She has no genuine feelings for anyone. Scott knew that for someone like Thomas, Sharon's morality didn't really matter. What kind of person Sharon was, Thomas might not care. But whether Sharon was sincere toward him—that was something he would care about. Thomas listened patiently until Scott finished. Then he smiled and said, "Scott, have you ever heard this saying? Being used isn't frightening. What's frightening is having no value to be used at all. "Why do people fight for power and profit? Isn't it to realize their own value? The fact that I have value to be used proves Sharon's recognition of me. As for you…"

Desire. I let out a soft laugh, reclining against the plush seat. “A blank check? Meaning I can write down anything?” He nodded. “Anything.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You must really think highly of yourself if you believe one night with you is worth that much.” He chuckled again, unbothered by my skepticism. “Oh, I know my worth, sweetheart. The real question is do you know yours?” I hated the way his words sent a ripple of something through me.

“I’m a stingy person and my advice is like money, which I don’t give out freely…” Williams paused for a second and withered his face. “What am I even saying? My advice is more valuable than money. It is a rare gem which raw gold, silver, and even a diamond aren’t its match,” he corrected himself. “I think I’m not bragging if I say it’s a star that shows in the sky once in a lifetime. So, a word from me mustn’t be in a waste or I won’t take it easy with you, sir…”

“Uh-huh, Daddy wouldn’t be happy hearing that.” The man blinked, thrown off by my casual tone. “What?” “You know,” I said thoughtfully, as if talking to myself. “Daddy always said, 'Your reputation is your most valuable asset, darling. Protect it like you’d protect your favorite pearls.'” I sighed, giving him a long, pitying look. “Clearly,” I continued, gesturing vaguely at him, “I need to work on that if you think you can talk to me like this. You worthless piece of trash, small dick with no brain, insecure, poor, grown man.”

Later, much later, when the tea was cold and the city outside was quiet and they were in the particular dark of a room where two people have stopped performing any version of themselves…. she said: “What did your father mean? When he wrote worth it in the margin.” Ryder was quiet. “He was reading a passage about the cost of staying,” he said. “About the people who see something wrong and have a choice, stay and fight or leave and survive.” She looked at the ceiling. “He chose stay,” she said. “Yes.” “And the cost was everything.” “Yes.” “And he still wrote worth it.” “Yes.” His voice was very quiet. “He still wrote worth it.”

Once I’m done with the sob story, Ms Caruso has to stop what she's doing to take a breather and then she gets right in my face. "You will not allow that shit man to steal even one more day from your life," she demands, pointing right between my eyebrows as if she’s about to shoot me if I don’t agree. I nod, for my own good, "You have incredible gifts in life... your sweet father and two loud sisters who adore you. That is worth more than anything in this life. Men come and go, most of them are shit. But your worth is not something they determine, you must never allow another shit man to make you think you're anything less than blessed and loved."