Francis Scott Fitzgerald

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical plot in Samuel Butler's “Note-books.”
The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati:
«Sir —
I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of stationary on you but I will.»
33 printed pages

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    kbhogilalshared an impression5 years ago
    👍Worth reading

    Abruptly ended though

    молли спарклshared an impression8 months ago
    👍Worth reading
    💡Learnt A Lot

    классная книга для тех у кого уровень Intermediate. читается легко, выучила много новых слов.

    Ibtisam Bhattishared an impressionlast year
    👍Worth reading

    I will not argue with you. But you are doing things correctly and in the wrong way. I don't suppose I can stop you, if you've made your mind different from everybody else, but I don't really consider it extremely considerable.


    молли спарклhas quoted8 months ago
    young lady, beautiful as sin.
    Ирина Волынецhas quoted2 years ago
    Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal—with an effort he choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she continued—"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell; sixty is—oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is the mellow age. I love fifty."
    Фелиция Белковаhas quoted3 months ago
    full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty of the sky—almost.

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