His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets.
Money cannot buy health, but I’d settle for a diamond-studded wheelchair.
Travel, trouble, music, art,
A kiss, a frock, a rhyme –
I never said they feed my heart,
But still they pass my time.
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch is, and it darts away.
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.
They laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.
And they were pitiful and mild
Who whispered to me then;
The heart that breaks in April, child;
Will mend in May again.
Oh, many a mended heart they knew;
So old they were, and wise.
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!
Who flings me silly talk of May
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.
Gratitude—the meanest and most sniveling attribute in the world.
As only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you’ll live through the night.
Women and elephants never forget.
Those who have mastered etiquette, who are entirely, impeccably right, would seem to arrive at a point of exquisite dullness.
Some men break your heart in two,
Some men fawn and flatter,
Some men never look at you;
And that cleans up the matter.
I don’t know much about being a millionaire, but I’ll bet I’d be darling at it.
I might repeat to myself, slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound; if I can remember any of the damned things.
Oh seek, my love, your newer way;
I’ll not be left in sorrow.
So long as I have yesterday
Go take your damned tomorrow!
All I say is, nobody has any business to go around looking like a horse and behaving as if it were all right. You don’t catch horses going around looking like people, do you?
Out in Hollywood, where the streets are paved with Goldwyn, the word
Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter’s pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.
I shall stay the way I am because I do not give a damn.
I never thought that heav’n would lose its blue
And sullen storm-clouds mask the gentle sky;
I never thought the rose’s velvet hue
Would pale and sicken, though we said good-by.
I never dreamed the lark would hush its note
As day succeeded ever-drearier day,
Nor knew the song that swelled the robin’s throat
Would fade to silence, when you went away.
I never knew the sun’s irradiant beams
Upon the brooding earth no more would shine,
Nor thought that only in my mocking dreams
Would happiness that once I knew be mine.
I never thought the slim moon, mournfully,
Would shroud her pallid self in murky night.
Dear heart, I never thought these things would be-
I never thought they would, and I was right.
That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: “Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.”
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
- Cornelia Otis Skinner American Actress, Playwright
- James Russell Lowell American Poet, Critic
- Edwin Markham American Poet
- Stanley Kubrick American Film Director
- Saul Bellow Canadian-born American Novelist
- Joyce Carol Oates American Novelist
- Charlotte Perkins Gilman American Feminist, Writer
- Woody Allen American Film Actor, Director
- Kimberly Johnson American Poet
- Edna St. Vincent Millay American Poet