Dorothy Parker Quotes

You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

Mr. Hodge plays with his accustomed ease, even carrying the thing so far as to repeat many of his lines with his eyes shut; and in a pretty spirit of reciprocity, many members of the audience sit through the play with their eyes shut. <small>p. 175</small>

The murdered man meets his death in an intriguing and novel manner, which the management asks its customers, as a personal favor, not to reveal to possible future audiences. It remains a secret, chummily shared by those that have seen the play and the four or five million who read it in its original form as a Saturday Evening Post story a year or so ago. p. 320

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.

Brevity is the soul of lingerie.

Upon my honor
I saw a Madonna
Standing in a niche
Over the door
Of the glamorous whore
Of a prominent son of a bitch.

And you remember, Rabbi Wise has declared, in a heated moment, that our plays seem to be written for the hosiery buyers. If Dr. Wise had only witnessed our new summer reviews, he doubtless would have amended his statement to “read by the hosiery buyers.” <small>p.89</small>

Salary is no object: I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.

Anyone can do that—the stunt lies in not doing it. <small>p. 8</small>

Well, Aimee Semple McPherson has written a book. And were you to call it a little peach, you would not be so much as scratching its surface. It is the story of her life, and it is called In the Service of the King, which title is perhaps a bit dangerously suggestive of a romantic novel. It may be that this autobiography is set down in sincerity, frankness and simple effort. It may be, too, that the Statue of Liberty is situated in Lake Ontario.

[On being told of Calvin Coolidge's death] How do they know? (Coolidge was known as a man who said very few words.)

There is no such hour on the present clock as 6:30, New York time. Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.

If you arrive late, you won't know what anything is about, and if you are there all the way from the beginning, you won't care. <small>p. 277</small>

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

What fresh hell can this be?