“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”

Why is it great? First off, the rhythm of the sentence makes me swoon.

I keep reading it aloud, to hear how it swirls and swirls like dancers on a ballroom floor before coming to a rest, softly, on the words champagne and stars. But it also captures Gatsby’s world: People are drawn to him like moths to a bright light, but his gardens are tinged with sadness and filled with whispers, for it is the champagne and extravagance that bring them, not love.