My Soul Is Crushed, My Spirit Sore I Do Not Like Me Anymore, I Cavil, Quarrel, Grumble, Grouse, I Ponder On The Narrow House I Shudder At The Thought Of Men I'm Due To Fall In Love Again.

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My soul is crushed, my spirit sore
I do not like me anymore,
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse,
I ponder on the narrow house
I shudder at the thought of men
I'm due to fall in love again.
-- Dorothy Parker, "Enough Rope"

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