Dorothy Parker Quotes - Page 2

The sun's gone dim, and the moon's gone black. For I loved him, and he didn't love back.

Where's the man that could ease a heart like a satin gown?

I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again

There's a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words."

[Interview, The Paris Review, Summer 1956]

I don't care what is written about me so long as it isn't true.

The best way to keep children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant, and let the air out of the tires.

Four be the things I'd have been better without: love, curiosity, freckles and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.

If all the girls attending [the Yale prom] were laid end to end, I wouldn't be at all surprised.

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.

Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you-
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You'll be the first it ever did.

Why is it no one sent me yet one perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always just my luck to get one perfect rose.

The two most beautiful words in the English language are 'cheque enclosed.

And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned.

It serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.

But I give you my word, in the entire book there is nothing that cannot be said aloud in mixed company. And there is, also, nothing that makes you a bit the wiser. I wonder-oh, what will you think of me-if those two statements do not verge upon the synonymous.

It costs me never a stab nor squirm / To tread by chance upon a worm. / Aha, my little dear, / I say, Your clan will pay me back one day.

My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
He'll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathway of the morrows.
He'll live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart, -
And I wish somebody'd shoot him.