Daisy Buchanan: I love you now. Isn't that enough?
: You like my cuff buttons? Nick Carraway: Ivory? Wolfsheim: Human molars. Nick Carraway: ...Unique. Nick Carraway: Is something happening? Jordan Baker: Tom's got a woman in New York. You surprised? Nick Carraway: Actually I'm more surprised that he was depressed by a book. Nick Carraway: Your place looks like the World's Fair. Owl Eyes: [At Gatsby's funeral] I couldn't get to the house. Nick Carraway: Neither could anybody else. Owl Eyes: Why my God, they used to go there by the hundreds. Poor son of a bitch. Nick Carraway: [Narrating] Daisy hadn't sent a message or a flower. Poor son of a bitch. Jay Gatsby: This was a terrible mistake. Nick Carraway: You're just embarrassed. Daisy's embarrassed too. Jay Gatsby: She's embarrassed? Nick Carraway: You're acting like a little boy. Not only that, you're rude. Daisy's sitting in there all alone. Nick Carraway: You can't repeat the past. Jay Gatsby: Can't repeat the past? Of course you can! Owl Eyes: What do you think? Jordan Baker: About what? Owl Eyes: About THAT. Jordan Baker: Books? Owl Eyes: They're real. Here. Let me show you. They have pages in them. See? A bonafide piece of printed matter. It fooled me. I've been drunk for about a week and I thought a library would sober me up. Jordan Baker: Did it help? Owl Eyes: I can't tell you. I've only been here an hour. Nick Carraway: [First lines] [narrating] Nick Carraway: In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages you've had." While reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope, I've come to admit that my tolerance of human behavior has its limits. Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this story, represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. And yet there was something gorgeous about him. Some hightened sensitivity to the promises of life, a romantic readiness such as I've never found in any other person and which it is not likely I'll ever find again. Nick Carraway:
The history of that summer really begins when I drove across the bay to the more fashionable East Egg to have dinner with the Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed and I'd known Tom in college. His family was enormously wealthy and he'd been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at Yale. He and Daisy had spent a year in France drifting aimlessly among the rich. "This was to be a permanent move," Daisy told me over the telephone. But I didn't believe her.