Song Of One Of The Girls
Here in my heart I am Helen;
I'm Aspasia and Hero, at least.
I'm Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Stael;
I'm Salome, moon of the East.
Here in my soul I am Sappho;
Lady Hamilton am I, as well.
In me Recamier vies with Kitty O'Shea,
With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell.
I'm of the glamorous ladies
At whose beckoning history shook.
But you are a man, and see only my pan,
So I stay at home with a book.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Related quotes
Salome
Baby please
Baby please dont go
I got lies to feed
They want skin and seed
And dont make me crawl
Please
Baby dont bite your lip
Give you half what I got
If you untie the knot
Its a promise
Salome...salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
Baby please
Baby whats that tune
Well I heard it before
When I crawled from your door
And my blood turned blue
Please
Baby please slow down
Baby I feel sick
Dont make me stick to my promise
Salome...salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
Baby please
Baby dont say no
Wont you dance for me
Under the cherry tree
Wont you swing down low
Please
Baby please say yes
Baby dont go away
Youre spilling me
And your precious love
Salome...salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
Salome...shake it shake it shake it salome
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is the whole history of a woman's life, it is but an episode in a man's.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Time Loser
(rod stewart)
Stand here evry night,
Im wearin my number,
But she said wear it,
Touching up another fool.
In a jukebox job downin blues
In her leopard-skin anklehigh boots
While Im jackin off
Readin playboy on a hot afternoon.
Im a three time loser.
Caught it up in monterey,
Shook it up in east virginia,
Now my friends say its here to stay.
How dare you have a party
In a chelsea basement
When the poor excited jezebel said come outside.
She felt me up and kissed my face,
Put her dirty hands down in my pants.
She took all of my money,
Left me naked by the silvery moon.
Im a three time loser.
Caught it up in monterey,
Shook it up in east virginia,
Now my friends say its here to stay.
Roll away, roll away, all of you women;
I dont think I need you anymore.
Therell be no more doctors bills,
Therell be no more swallowing pills.
And Ive found a woman
That can witness that in blood out of me.
Im a three time loser.
Caught it up in monterey,
Shook it up in east virginia,
Now my friends say its here to stay.
Im a three time loser.
Caught it up in monterey,
Shook it up in east virginia,
Now my friends say its here to stay.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judith Delivers The Israelites
(after Eugene Lee-hamilton)
Holofernes welcomed Judith in his tent
with in his eyes a kind of lustful gleam,
somewhat as if in a incoherent dream,
smiling, unarmored as if his power was spent.
Drunkenly he pushed her down and over her he bent,
a jewel on her scimitar had an ominous red gleam
as powerfully she beheaded him, made his blood stream,
heard his guards laugh in the tent adjacent
while she drew in her own breath
and in his heart there might have been a kind of love,
but away from the opening she did his body drag,
smiled after she had put him to death
and she believed her mission did come from above,
as she did put his head in a leather bag.
[References: Judith and Holofernes by Eugene Lee-hamilton. The apocryphal book of Judith.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The End
ADIEU, Madame! The moon of May
Wanes now above the orchard grey;
The white May-blossoms fall like snow,
As Love foretold a month ago--
Or was it only yesterday?
All pleasant things must pass away;
You would not, surely, have me stay?
I own I shun the inference! No!
Adieu, Madame!
Come, dry your eyes, for not this way
Should end your pretty pastoral play.
You have no heart--you told me so--
And I adore you, as you know;
Smile, while I break my heart and say
Adieu, Madame!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Ladies Pay
All the sailors theyre all home from leave
And everybodys waiting for them to try to deceive
The storekeepers have drawn their lace curtains bare
And all the women and the wee young girls all waiting there
Oh, but how the ladies pay
Oh, if they only knew how the ladies pay
Yeah now, how the ladies pay
Oh, when the men theyve gone away
Nobody is standing on upon the door
And nobody is feeding any of the poor
The poor sick soldier lies in bed beside his girl
Thinking of another place on the other side of the world
Ah
How the ladies pay
Oh-oh, oh, how the ladies pay
When the men theyve gone away
Oh, I wish I knew how the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night
Night and day
Day and night
Day and night, night and day, ladies pay now
Night and day, day and night
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night now
Night and day and now
How the pay now
Oh, how the pay now
Ladies pay, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay the way now
Ladies pay, ah, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay
Night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay
Oh, night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hamilton
WILD and wet, and windy wet falls the night on Hamilton,
Hamilton that seaward looks unto the setting sun,
Lady of the patient face, lifted everlastingly,
Veiled and hushed and mystical as a cloistered nun.
O the days, the cruel days creeping over Hamilton
Like a train of haggard ghosts, homeless and accursed,
Moaning for a fleet o’ dream silver-sailed and wonderful,
Moaning for a sorrow’s sake, the fairest and the first.
O the moon, the lonely moon, leaning low on Hamilton,
Thro’ the years that sunder us the dead come back, come back,
Scent of white eucrephia stars blown on winds of Memory,
Glint and gleam of fagus gold adown the torrent’s track.
Half my heart is buried there, buried high on Hamilton,
Lonely is the sepulchre with never stone for sign,
Where the nodding myrtle-plumes stand like sable sentinels
And the ruddy rimony wreathes the hooded pine.
Half my heart is yearning yet, yearning yet for Hamilton,
Hamilton beyond the surge of sobbing Southern main,
O the croon of wistful winds calling, calling, calling me,
Where the mottled mountain thrush is singing in the rain.
We shall ne’er go back again, back again to Hamilton,
Heart o’ me, our track is toward the heart of burning day,
Hills beyond the call of hills beaconing and beckoning—
Westward, westward winds the track, a thread of dusky grey.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
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Thus Sinus Said (Revised)
Poor Madame la Pompadour must have been feeling
so down when she tried to get up two days in a row,
despite the Bogeyman behind her door, but Sinusman
claimed her in the end, a terrible attack, so she has to
stay in bed, cannot join us in the office
Like Tchaikovsky holding his head while conducting –
scared of decapitation if he let go, she too cannot move
for fear her head will fall; so she imprisoned at home by
Agoraphobia while Xenophobia makes any movement
outside her yard impossible,
She needs a cohort of doctors and medley of psychiatrists
to deal with her extreme symptoms, can no longer drive
endless miles from East Rand to the humble Kingsley
Centre where she is employed; but she concluded that
her presence is a great privilege to be treasured by those
She lords over, so she will only venture forth when she
feels as glamorous as Angelina Jolie and as impressively
aggressive as George Eliot or Virginia Woolf
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A Hero?
Her hero is pretty and thin
Her hero is a hero to many
A hero of fame and a hero of fortune
A role model, a hero of glamour
Her hero is a hero to many
His hero is fit and fast
His hero is a hero to many
A hero of sport, a hero of games
A role model, a hero of victory
His hero is a hero to many
Her hero is clever yet plane
Her hero is a hero to few
A hero of science, a hero of logic
A role model, a hero of knowledge
Her hero is a hero to few
His hero is a hero of art but he is poor
His hero is a hero to few
A hero of word a hero of writings
A role model, a hero of language
His hero is a hero to few
But that’s the thing with your heros....
Hero worship is only skin deep.
poem by Timothy Venard
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The more I see of men the more I like dogs.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The more I see of men, the better I like dogs.
quote by Madame de Stael
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Speech happens to not be his language.
quote by Madame de Stael
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Men err from selfishness; women because they are weak.
quote by Madame de Stael
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Politeness is the art of choosing among your thoughts.
quote by Madame de Stael
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I am glad that I am not a man, for if I were I should have to marry a woman.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To understand everything makes one very indulgent.
quote by Madame de Stael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A religious life is a struggle and not a hymn.
quote by Madame de Stael
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A man must know how to fly in the face of opinion; a woman to submit to it.
quote by Madame de Stael
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