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.
Dorothy Parker
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I never see that prettiest thing
A cherry bough gone white with Spring
But what I think How gay twould be
To hang me from a flowering tree.
- Dorothy Parker -
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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.
- Dorothy Parker -