Women who live alone in small residential hotels throughout the United States have plenty of money and plenty of time: their only occupation is to spend one and kill the other.

Women who live alone in small residential hotels throughout the United States have plenty of money and plenty of time: their only occupation is to spend one and kill the other.
...Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
On hearing the door bell or telephone ringing:
"What fresh hell is this?"
Of a play by Channing Pollock:
"The House Beautiful" is The Play Lousy.
Wit has truth in it. Wise-cracking is simply callisthenics with words.
Reuben's Children
Accursed from their birth they be
Who seek to find monogamy,
Pursuing it from bed to bed -
I think they would be better dead.
Thought For a Sunshiny Morning
It costs me never a stab or squirm
To tread by chance upon a worm.
"Aha, my little dear," I say,
"Your clan will pay me back one day."
Of the 1930s:
"They were progressive days. We thought we were going to make the world better - I forget why we thought it, but we did."
Telegram sent to two friends who had been living together and then got married:
"WHAT'S NEW?"
On being asked the title of her talk to the Congress of American Writers' poetry session in 1939:
"Sophisticated Verse and The Hell with it."
Of her job at Vanity Fair:
"My boss is an idiot, and the rest of the staff is four young men who go to pieces easily. Even when they're in the best of health, you have to stand on their insteps to keep them from flying away."
Of her pet dog's mange:
"I suppose he got it from a lamp-post."
On finding herself a guest at a private house:
"I knew it would be terrible. Only I didn't think it would be as bad as this. This isn't just plain terrible; this is fancy."
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke:
And that, I think, is worse.
Words of Comfort to be Scratched on a Mirror
Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;
Sappho's restriction was only the sky;
Ninon was ever the chatter of France;
But oh, what a good girl am I!
To a friend who asked her if she liked her hair:
"Lovely. I can't wait for mine to go gray so I can have it made blue."
Rhyme Against Living
If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide;
If cool my heart and high my head,
I think, "How lucky are the dead!"
Women who live alone in small residential hotels throughout the United States have plenty of money and plenty of time: their only occupation is to spend one and kill the other.
Cherry White
I never see that prettiest thing -
A cherry bough gone white with spring -
But but what I think, "How gay 'twould be
To hang me from a flowering tree."