There's life for you. Spend the best years of your life studying penmanship and rhetoric and syntax and Beowulf and George Eliot, and then somebody steals your pencil.
Dorothy ParkerRead
Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat My dress is 1922… My life is all like that.
Interpretation
The quote reflects a sense of pride in one's appearance while hinting at a deeper commentary on the state of life.
In this quote by Dorothy Parker, the speaker expresses a superficial sense of joy and pride through their shiny new shoes and pristine hat, alongside the mention of a dated dress style from 1922. This juxtaposition suggests that while outward appearances might seem perfect, there could be an underlying emptiness or nostalgia, encapsulating a broader commentary on the complexities of life and the façade people often maintain.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of inner worth over outward appearances, this quote serves as a reminder.
There's life for you. Spend the best years of your life studying penmanship and rhetoric and syntax and Beowulf and George Eliot, and then somebody steals your pencil.
My land is bare of chattering folk; / the clouds are low along the ridges, / and sweet's the air with curly smoke / from all my burning bridges.
Prince or commoner, tenor or bass, Painter or plumber or never-do-well, Do me a favor and shut your face - Poets alone should kiss and tell.
They say of me, and so they should, It's doubtful if I come to good. I see acquaintances and friends Accumulating dividends And making enviable names In science, art and parlor games. But I, despite expert advice, Keep doing things I think are nice, And though to good I never come Inseparable my nose and thumb.
It is that word 'hunny,' my darlings, that marks the first place in The House at Pooh Corner at which Tonstant Weader fwowed up.
I can’t write five words but that I change seven.
Rosemary felt that this swim would become the typical one of her life, the one that would always pop up in her memory at the mention of swimming.
Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.
And I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.
Keep searchin’ for your mystery note on the universal piano of life.
(Ravic speaking of a butterfly caught in the Louvre) In the morning it would search for flowers and life and the light honey of blossoms and would not find them and later it would fall asleep on millennial marble, weakened by then, until the grip of the delicate, tenacious feet loosened and it fell, a thin leaf of premature autumn.
Here's to five miserable months on the wagon and the irreparable harm that it's caused me.
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