He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run fast, stretch out our arms further… And one fine morning –
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
(End of The Great Gatsby, F.Scott Fiztgerald, just finished in the bath, seemed appropriate to something)
Good luck, Roy.