Please enable JavaScript.
Coggle requires JavaScript to display documents.
VOICE in **The Great Gatsby* (DAISY (It was the kind of voice that the…
VOICE
in **
The Great Gatsby
*
TOM
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the
impression of fractiousness he conveyed.
Some time toward
midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to
face discussing in impassioned voices whether Mrs. Wilson
had any right to mention Daisy's name.
Simultaneously I heard his voice, gruff, muffled, husky, at
the hall telephone.
The voice in the hall rose high with
annoyance. "Very well then, I won't sell you the car
Yes...1 went there."
A pause. Then Tom's voice, incredulous and insulting:
"You must have gone there about the time Biloxi went to
New Haven."
"Sit down Daisy." Tom's voice groped unsuccessfully for the paternal note.
Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but his voice was as remote from Jordan
and me as the foreign clamor on the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead.
DAISY
It was the kind of voice that
the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again
I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice
As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth\x97but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered "Listen," a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.
I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or
White Star Line. He's singing away-- her voice sang--
It's romantic, isn't it, Tom?"
The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my
attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she
had said.
Perhaps Daisy never went
in for amour at all\x97and yet there's something in that
voice of hers. . . .
After you had gone home she came into my room and woke me up and
said "What Gatsby?" and when I described him--I was half
asleep--she said in the strangest voice that it must be the
man she used to know.
or a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward
breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light
deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a
pleasant street at dusk.
"Is this absolutely where you live, my dearest one?"
The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in
the rain.
. Then from the living room I heard a sort of choking murmur and part of a laugh followed by Daisy's voice on a clear artificial note. "I certainly am awfully glad to see you again."
"We haven't met for many years," said Daisy, her voice
as matter-of-fact as it could ever be.
"They're such beautiful shirts," she sobbed, her voice
muffled in the thick folds.
28-29 I think that voice held him most with its fluctuating, feverish warmth because it couldn't be over-dreamed that voice was a deathless song.
They arrived at twilight and as we strolled out among the sparkling hundreds Daisy's voice was playing murmurous tricks in her throat.
Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic
whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had
never had before and would never have again. When the
melody rose her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a
way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a
little of her warm human magic upon the air.
"And everything's so confused. Let's all go to town!"
Her voice struggled on through the heat, beating against
it, moulding its senselessness into forms.
Daisy's voice got us to our
feet and out on to the blazing gravel drive.
37-38. "She's got an indiscreet voice," I remarked. "It's full
of..." I hesitated.
"Her voice is full of money," he said suddenly.
That was it. I'd never understood before. It was full of
money--that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell
in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals' song of it. . . . High in a
white palace the king's daughter, the golden girl. . . .
"You're revolting," said Daisy. She turned to me and her
voice, dropping an octave lower, filled the room with thrilling scorn...
"Please don't." Her voice was cold but the rancour was
gone from it.
"Even alone I can't say I never loved Tom," she admitted
in a pitiful voice. "It wouldn't be true."
44-45 But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up and only the
dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying
to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily,
undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.
The voice begged again to go.
She had caught a cold and it made her voice huskier and
more charming than ever and Gatsby was overwhelmingly
aware of the youth and mystery that wealth imprisons and
preserves, of the freshness of many clothes and of Daisy,
gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor.
JORDAN BAKER
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously
devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up
alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice.
Usually her voice came over the wire as something
fresh and cool as if a divot from a green golf links had come
sailing in at the office window but this morning it seemed
harsh and dry.
MYRTLE
Then she wet her lips and without turning around
spoke to her husband in a soft, coarse voice:
Some time toward
midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to
face discussing in impassioned voices whether Mrs. Wilson
had any right to mention Daisy's name.
When he [Michaelis]
came outside again a little after seven he was reminded of
the conversation because he heard Mrs. Wilson's voice, loud
and scolding, downstairs in the garage.
CATHERINE
"You see?" cried Catherine triumphantly. She lowered
her voice again.
MRS. MCKEE
The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a
moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean then the
shrill voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room.
Mr. McKee
women's
Then there were bloody towels upon the bathroom floor
and women's voices scolding, and high over the confusion
a long broken wail of pain.
NICK
"Hello!" I roared, advancing toward her. My voice
seemed unnaturally loud across the garden.
Gatsby
His voice was solemn as if the memory of that sudden
extinction of a clan still haunted him
Finally he got up and informed me in an uncertain voice that he was going home.
"Why's that?"
"Nobody's coming to tea.
For several weeks I didn't see him or hear his voice on the phone
orchestra leader
WILSON
HIS {Wilson's} voice faded off and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage.
Some words of this conversation must have reached Wilson swaying in the office door for suddenly a new theme
found voice among his gasping cries.
a couple of months ago his wife had come
from the city with her face bruised and her nose swollen.
But when he heard himself say this he flinched and began
to cry "Oh, my God!" again in his groaning voice.
Dog Seller in Street
"No, it's not exactly a po\ice dog," said the man with
disappointment in his voice
one of two girls
"The last one was the one I met you at," answered the
girl in an alert, confident voice. She turned to her companion: "Wasn't it for you, Lucille?" :
group
"I wasn't driving. There's another man in the car."
The shock that followed this declaration found voice in
a sustained "Ah-h-h!" as the door of the coupe swung
slowly open.**
Then taking a long breath and straightening his
shoulders he remarked in a determined voice:
"Wonder'ff tell me where there's a gas'line station?"**
SOME MAN
Some man was
talking to him in a low voice and attempting from time to time
to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw.
BUTLER
I sat down for a few minutes with my head in my
hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the
butler's voice calling a taxi.
A DETECTIVE
Someone with a positive manner, perhaps a detective, used the expression "mad man" as he bent over Wilson's body that afternoon, and the adventitious authority of
his voice set the key for the newspaper reports next morning.
SLAGLE (Chicago phone call)
But the connection came through as a man's voice, very
thin and far away.
"This is Slagle speaking. . . . "
WOLFSHIEM
At this moment a voice unmistakably Wolfshiem's called
"Stella!" from the other side of the door.
He drew me
into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad
time for all of us, and offered me a cigar.
OWL EYES
Dimly I heard someone murmur "Blessed are the
dead that the rain falls on," and then the owl-eyed man said
"Amen to that," in a brave voice.