#Dorothy Parker

[thepopculturearchivist]

LIFE, August 19, 1926

[davidhudson]

Dorothy Parker, August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967.

[apoemaday]

But Not Forgotten

by Dorothy Parker

I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the secret night, And feel my arms about you when The day comes fluttering back again. I think, no matter where you be, You’ll hold me in your memory And keep my image, there without me, By telling later loves about me.

[edwardian-masquerade]

"A single flow'r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—One perfect rose."

— Dorothy Parker, "One Perfect Rose"

[derangedrhythms]

I am hung with graveyard flowers.

Dorothy Parker, Enough Rope; from 'Rainy Night'

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Source: Dorothy Parker FB

[dabiconcordia]

“Inventory:

"Four 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.” ― Dorothy Parker

[milquetoast-zeitgeist]

[typewriter-worries]

maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you’re at your worst

On Political(ized) Life, Kanika Lawton | Corner Table, Joseph Lorusso | Giovanni's Room, James Baldwin | Embrace, Peter Wever | Jonathan Carroll | We've Got Each Other, Ron Hicks | Rondeau Redoublé, Dorothy Parker

[citizenscreen]

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

- Dorothy Parker ✍️ #botd in 1893

[thepopculturearchivist]

LIFE, July 21, 1927

[austinkleon]

Dorothy Parker.

[apoemaday]

Temps Perdu

by Dorothy Parker

I never may turn the loop of a road Where sudden, ahead, the sea is lying, But my heart drags down with an ancient load-- My heart, that a second before was flying.

I never behold the quivering rain-- And sweeter the rain than a lover to me-- But my heart is wild in my breast with pain; My heart, that was tapping contentedly.

There’s never a rose spreads new at my door Nor a strange bird crosses the moon at night But I know I have known its beauty before, And a terrible sorrow along with the sight.

The look of a laurel tree birthed for May Or a sycamore bared for a new November Is as old and as sad as my furtherest day-- What is it, what is it, I almost remember?

[cantsayidont]

April 1994. His will sapped by a magic spell, Superman spurns both Lois and Batman for the Silver Banshee in Book 3 of the LEGENDS OF THE WORLD'S FINEST miniseries. Batman is, to borrow a phrase from Dorothy Parker, not tossed aside lightly, but thrown with great force.

[derangedrhythms]

Dorothy Parker, Enough Rope; from 'Threnody'

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Why, I don’t know, Fred—what are you going to have? Then I guess I’ll have a highball, too; please, just a little one. Is it really real Scotch? Well, that will be a new experience for me. You ought to see the Scotch I’ve got home in my cupboard; at least it was in the cupboard this morning—it’s probably eaten its way out by now. I got it for my birthday. The only other thing I got was a year older. The person that gave me that Scotch must have heard some rumor that I was making a collection of lethal weapons.

     —Dorothy Parker, "Just a Little One," from the May 12, 1928 issue of The New Yorker.

Photo: The Hunt Club speakeasy in the theater district, 1932. Margaret Bourke-White for Life magazine