Quotes by Dorothy Parker

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Dorothy Parker (August 22, 1893 June 7, 1967) was an American writer and poet best known for her caustic wit, wisecracks, and sharp eye for 20th century urban foibles. Also known as Dot or Dottie, Parker was born Dorothy Rothschild in the West End district of Long Branch, New Jersey.

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I shall stay the way I am because I do not give a damn.

Razors pain you; rivers are damp; acids stain you; and drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful; nooses give; gas smells awful; you might as well live.
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch is, and it darts away.
You can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think.
This book is not to be tossed lightly aside, but to be hurled with great force.
Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.
The best way to keep children at home is to make the home a pleasant atmosphere and let the air out of the tires.
They sicken at the calm that know the storm.
The two most beautiful words in the English language are: Check Enclosed.
I require three things in a man. He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.
Those who have mastered etiquette, who are entirely, impeccably right, would seem to arrive at a point of exquisite dullness.
She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.
It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes.
Enjoyed it! One more drink and I'd have been under the host.
I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.
All those writers who write about their childhood! Gentle God, if I wrote about mine you wouldn't sit in the same room with me.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, / A melody of extemporanea; / And love is a thing that can never go wrong; / And I am Marie of Roumania
He [Robert Benchley] and I had an office so tiny that an inch smaller and it would have been adultery.
Drink, and dance and laugh and lie, love the reeling midnight through, for tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)
Good work, Mary. We all knew you had it in you.
Sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.
I can't talk about Hollywood. It was a horror to me when I was there and it's a horror to look back on. I can't imagine how I did it. When I got away from it I couldn't even refer to the place by name. Out there, I called it.
Hollywood money isn't money. It's congealed snow, melts in your hand, and there you are.
Gratitude -- the meanest and most sniveling attribute in the world.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet one perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always just my luck to get one perfect rose.
Brevity is the soul of lingerie.
Where's the man could ease a heart, like a satin gown?
This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.
Art is a form of catharsis.
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.
Her mind lives tidily, apart / From cold and noise and pain, / And bolts the door against her heart, / Out wailing in the rain.
She had spent the golden time in grudging its going.
Then if my friendships break and bend, / There’s little need to cry / The while I know that every foe / Is faithful till I die.
Four be the things I am wiser to know: / Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
There's a helluva distance between wisecracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.
Work is the province of cattle.
If you're going to write, don't pretend to write down. It's going to be the best you can do, and it's the fact that it's the best you can do that kills you.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
Myrtilla's tripping down the street, In Easter finery. The Easter blooms are not more sweet And radiant-hued than she.
Four be the things I’d be better without: / Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.
By the time you swear you’re his, / Shivering and sighing, / And he vows his passion is / Infinite, undying— / Lady, make a note of this: / One of you is lying.
I love to drink Martinis, / Two at the very most / Three, I’m under the table; / Four, I’m under the host.
Hollywood money isn’t money. It’s congealed snow, melts in your hand, and there you are.
The best way to keep children home is to make it pleasant—and let the air out of the tires.
Pity those in Mammon's thrall, Poor, misguided souls are they, Money's nothing, after all--Make the grocer think that way!

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