By the time you swear you're his,Shivering and sighing.And he vows his passion is,Infinite, undying.Lady make note of this --One of you is lying.

In youth, it was a way I had,To do my best to please.And change, with every passing ladTo suit his theories.But now I know the things I knowAnd do the things I do,And if you do not like me so,To hell, my love, with you.

ur be the things I am wiser to know:Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.Four be the things I'd been better without:Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.Three be the things I shall never attain:Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.Three be the things I shall have till I die:Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.

I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.

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?

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

Heterosexuality is not normal, it's just common.

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.

Don't look at me in that tone of voice.

I don't know much about being a millionaire, but I'll bet I'd be darling at it.

I like to have a martini,Two at the very most.After three I'm under the table,after four I'm under my host.

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.

Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.

I require three things in a man: he must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.

There's a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.", Summer 1956]

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

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

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

MenThey hail you as their morning starBecause you are the way you are.If you return the sentiment,They'll try to make you different;And once they have you, safe and sound,They want to change you all around.Your moods and ways they put a curse on;They'd make of you another person.They cannot let you go your gait;They influence and educate.They'd alter all that they admired.They make me sick, they make me tired.

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

Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.

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

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

Brevity is the soul of lingerie.

That woman speaks eighteen languages, and can't say 'No' in any of them.

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

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.

And there was that poor sucker Flaubert rolling around on his floor for three days looking for the right word.

If I had a shiny gun I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folks that cause me pains :)

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.

If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.

The TriflerDeath's the lover that I'd be taking;Wild and fickle and fierce is he.Small's his care if my heart be breaking-Gay young Death would have none of me.Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!No one other my mouth had kissed.I had dressed me in silk to meet him-False young Death would not hold the tryst.Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy,Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;I must wait till he whistles for me-Proud young Death would not turn his head.I must wait till my breast is wilted.I must wait till my back is bowed,I must rock in the corner, jilted-Death went galloping down the road.Gone's my heart with a trifling rover.Fine he was in the game he played-Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,And rode away with a prettier maid.

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.

Little WordsWhen you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf,Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds;And I can only stare, and shape my griefIn little words.I cannot conjure loveliness, to drownThe bitter woe that racks my cords apart.The weary pen that sets my sorrow downFeeds at my heart.There is no mercy in the shifting year,No beauty wraps me tenderly about.I turn to little words- so you, my dear,Can spell them out.

I hate writing, I love having written.

There's life for you. Spend the best years of your life studying penmanship and rhetoric and syntax and Beowulf and George Eliot, and then somebody steals your pencil.

Hold your pen and spare your voice.

You can't teach an old dogma new tricks.

Prince or commoner, tenor or bass,Painter or plumber or never-do-well,Do me a favor and shut your face -Poets alone should kiss and tell.

I don't know," she said. "We used to squabble a lot when we were going together and then engaged and everything, but I thought everything would be so different as soon as you were married. And now I feel so sort of strange and everything. I feel so sort of alone.

I like best to have one book in my hand, and a stack of others on the floor beside me, so as to know the supply of poppy and mandragora will not run out before the small hours.

Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship.

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

I find her anecdotes more efficacious than sheep-counting, rain on a tin roof, or alanol tablets.... you will find me and Morpheus, off in a corner, necking.

This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.

Now to me, Edith looks like something that would eat her young.

They sicken of the calm who know the storm.

God, the bitter misery that reading works into this world! Everybody knows that - everbody who IS everybody. All the best minds have been off reading for years. Look at the swing La Rouchefoucauld took at it. He said that if nobody had ever learned to read, very few people would be in love. Good for you, La Rouchefoucauld; nice going, boy. I wish I’d never learned to read.

Why, that dog is practically a Phi Beta Kappa. She can sit up and beg, and she can give her paw -- I don't say she will but she can.

Money cannot buy health, but I'd settle for a diamond-studdedwheelchair.

She was pleased to have him come and never sorry to see him go.

Ducking for apples -- change one letter and it's the story of my life.

Creativity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye.

He'll be cross if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell.He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that.

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

Some men break your heart in two,Some men fawn and flatter,Some men never look at you;And that cleans up the matter.

If wild my breast and sore my pride,I bask in dreams of suicide,If cool my heart and high my headI think 'How lucky are the dead.

I never see that prettiest thing-A cherry bough gone white with Spring-But what I think, "How gay 'twould beTo hang me from a flowering tree.

This level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,Whose quiet ripples meet obediently A marked and measured line, one after one. This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm. I have a need of wilder, crueler waves; They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. So let a love beat over me again, Loosing its million desperate breakers wide; Sudden and terrible to rise and wane; Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide That casts upon the heart, as it recedes, Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.

A Very Short Song Once, when I was young and true, Someone left me sad- Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse.

London is satisfied, Paris is resigned, but New York is always hopeful. Always it believes that something good is about to come off, and it must hurry to meet it.

Then she told herself to stop her nonsense. If you looked for things to make you feel hurt and wretched and unnecessary, you were certain to find them, more easily each time, so easily, soon, that you did not even realize you had gone out searching.

tomorrow's gone-we'll have tonight!

Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.

You think You're frightening me with Your hell, don't You? You think Your hell is worse than mine.

She realizes she doesn't know as much as God but feels she knows as much as God knew when he was her age.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,a medley of extemporanea,And love is a thing that can never go wrong,and I am Marie of Romania.

Eternity is a ham and two people” (also given as “Eternity is two people and a ham") is an old quip from the days when a ham was huge—far more than two people could finish. Irma Rombauer mentions this line in her famous cookbook, The Joy of Cooking.

If I didn't care for fun and such,I'd probably amount to much.But I shall stay the way I am,Because I do not give a damn.

One more drink and I'd have been under the host.

They sicken of the calm that know the storm.

They sicken of calm who know the storm.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.

Where unwilling dies the rose Buds the new another year.

Poisons pain you Rivers are damp Acid stains you And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful Nooses give Gas smells awful You might as well live.

It cost 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.'

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

Men seldom make passes At girls who wear glasses.

Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship.

Scratch a lover and find a foe.

Lips that taste of tears they say are the best for kissing.

Women and elephants never forget.

He and I had an office so tiny that an inch smaller and it would have been adultery.

They sicken of the calm who know the storm.

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

Brevity is the soul of lingerie.

I don't know much about being a millionaire but I'll bet I'd be darling at it.

There was never a place for her in the ranks of the terrible slow army of the cautious. She ran ahead where there were no paths.

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

She realizes she doesn't know as much as God but feels she knows as much as God knew when he was her age.

Wit has truth in it wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.

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

Work is the province of cattle.