L'Amour! These ladies come and dance and excite themselves and want love and think it is happiness. And they tell me about their sorrows--me--and they have no sorrows at all, only that they are silly and selfish and lazy. Their husbands are unfaithful and their lovers run away and what do they say? Do they say, I have two hands, two feet, all my faculties, I will make a life for myself? No. They say, Give me cocaine, give me the cocktail, give me the thrill, give me the gigolo, give me l'amo-o-ur. likke a mouton bleating in a field. If they knew.
Should subtitle this Why I Love British Mysteries from the '30s. This is from Have His Carcase by Dorothy Sayers. A mystery story is not the first place you would expect to find a well expressed and an important thought, but here it is.