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Quote by Dorothy Parker

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Dorothy Parker in Her Own Words

This book presents a curated selection of Dorothy Parker's letters, essays, and other personal writings, offering a glimpse into the mind and life of one of America's most influential literary figures. The collection includes her wit, humor, and sharp observations on the human condition, providing readers with a unique perspective on the woman behind the famous persona. more

Author

Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker, an American poet, playwright, and critic, was born on August 22, 1893, and died on June 7, 1967. Known for her wit, satire, and humor, she is a prominent figure in 20th-century American literature. more

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“Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn days.”

“What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!”

“The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.”

“I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;- Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.”

“Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night by night the monitory blast Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes, Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.”