Best 42 quotes of Mackenzi Lee on MyQuotes

All those thing women are made to believe they are strange for harboring in their hearts. And I want to surround myself with those same strange, wicked women who throw themselves open to all the wondrous things the world has to offer.

Because women don't have to be men's equals to be considered contenders; they have to be better. That's the lie of it all. You have to be better to prove yourself worthy of being equal.

Blackmail is aggravating in normal circumstances, but far worse when it's coming from a younger sister.

Every chink and rut and battering wind has made is tough and brave and impossible to strike down.

Every time you rolled your eyes and every little smart remark you made about how silly it was for girls to care about their looks. You refused to let me--or anyone!--like books and silks. Outdoors and cosmetics. You stopped taking me seriously when I stopped being the kind of woman you thought I had to be to be considered intelligent and strong. All those things you say make men take women less seriously--I don't think it's men; it's you. You're not better than any other woman because you like philosophy better than parties and don't give a fig about the company of gentlemen, or because you wear boots instead of heels and don't set your hair in curls.

Fortune favors the flirtatious.

Here Lies Constatijn, slain by the first penis he saw that wasn't his own.

Hollow yourself or the fear eats you alive.

If you can't win the game, you have to cheat.

I do not want to know things, I want to understand things. I want to answer every question ever posed me. I want to leave no room for anyone to doubt me.

I don’t know what you’re referencing, madam,” the chairman says, his voice raised over mine. “I’m talking about menstruation, sir!” I shout in return. It’s like I set the hall on fire, manifested a venomous snake from thin air, also set that snake on fire, and then threw it at the board. The men all erupt into protestations and a fair number of horrified gasps. I swear one of them actually swoons at the mention of womanly bleeding.

I have challenged fate to chess and am now attempting to keep all my confidence from puddling in my boots. What if I’m the only one betting on myself because everyone but me can see I am not suited to play at all?

I like curling my hair and twirling in skirts with ruffles, and I like how Max looks with that big pink bow on. And that doesn't mean I'm not still smart and capable and strong.

I look down at his hand and laugh without quite knowing why. “You deserve some sort of reward for putting up with me.” “You’re my reward.” “Shit reward I am.” “Why do you think everyone needs some sort of recompense for being around you?” he says, his voice so gentle I almost start to cry.

I'm learning there is no one way for life to be lived, no one way to be strong or brave or kind or good. Rather there are many people doing the best they can with their heart they are given and the hand they are dealt.

I'm not sure anyone is all good when you break us down to raw materials," I say. "Max is all good." "Max is a dog." "I don't see how that changes anything. He's a good dog.

In the company of women like this - sharp-edged as raw diamonds but with soft hands and hearts, not strong in spite of anything but powerful because of everything - I feel invincible.

I think I want a house of my own," I start, the words a discovery as they leave my mouth. "Something small, so I don't have much housework, but enough room for a proper library. I want a lot of books. And I wouldn't mind a good old dog to walk with me. And a bakery I go to every morning where they know my name.

It is not a failure to readjust my sails to fit the waters I find myself in.

It's a strange feeling, realising that other people you don't know have their own, full lives that don't touch yours.

It would be so much easier if I did not want to know everything so badly. If I did not want so badly to be reliant upon no soul by myself.

I want to be the only thing touching him. I want to be the only thing that ever touches him again. I will be envious of every shirt he ever wears, the cuffs of his coats, the trousers going soft with wear where they rub his inner thighs.

I want to know everything about my own self and never to have to rely on someone else to tell me the way I work.

I wish I could be better for you." She looks over at me, and I duck my head, shame sinking its teeth in. "I'm older and I know I'm supposed to be... an example, I don't know. At least someone you aren't embarrassed of." "You do fine." "I don't." "You're right, you don't. But you're getting better. And that isn't nothing.

Love may be a grand thing, but goddamn if it doesn't take up more than its fair share of space inside a man.

Maybe everyone has hunger like this - impossible, insatiable, but all-consuming in spite of it all. Maybe the desert dreams of spilling rivers, valleys of a view. Maybe that hunger will one day pass. But if it does, I will be left shelled and halved and hollowed.

Mythology is all shite anyway,' she says. 'It never has stories about people like us. I'd rather write my own legends, or be the story someone else looks to one day, build a strong foundation for those who follow us.

Not a man is going to protect me, because this is a woman's fight, and we are going to protect ourselves!

Pain and ecstasy live close-knit in my heart.

Perhaps we all said the right things at the wrong time; perhaps we couldn't help it. Perhaps words became too heavy to haul, and the moment we let them loose was always the wrong one, but they needed to be free.

Perspective is a god damn son of a bitch.

She was the same person I had known. Had always known. Just a version that was more completely her.

The colours of the universe are there because of the existence of womankind.

Then I brace my feet against the casements and rescue myself.

The room is warm and smells like dust, and just the presence of so many books makes it easier to breathe. It’s remarkable how being around books, even those you’ve never read, can have a calming effect, like walking into a crowded party and finding it full of people you know.

We're all monsters. We're all careless and cruel in the end.

You deserve to be here. You deserve to exist. You deserve to take up space in this world of men.

Your beauty is not a tax you are required to pay to take up space in this world.

You’re being sarcastic.” “No, actually I was being flippant, but I can do sarcastic if you’d rather.

You’re either good, or you’re clever.

You're trying to play a game designed by men. You'll never win, because the deck is stacked and marked, and also you've been blindfolded and set on fire. You can work hard and believe in yourself and be the smartest person in the room and you'll still get beat by the boys who haven't two cents to rub together. So if you can't win the game, you have to cheat. You operate outside the walls they've built to fence you in. You rob them in the dark, while they're drunk on spirits you offered them. Poison their waters and drink only wine.

You took my life and Oliver's life and made them into this book. You made us into monsters, both of us.