Best 5610 quotes in «women quotes» category

Era lento el asunto. No solo les tocaba despejar el peso de la presencia real de los hombres, sino la del juez interiorizado, el hombrecito menudo, que con el índice siempre enrostrado y cara de padre, o cura, o tío o hermano estaba plantado como un busto augusto y austero en medio de los parques umbrosos de los cerebros femeninos, recordándoles o que eran hijas de Eva: pecadoras; hijas de mala madre: putas; hijas de la Barbie: idiotas; hijas de la Virgen María: niñas decentes; hijas de madres mejores que ellas que no se creían las divinas garzas: mujeres calladas y bien portadas... La ristra de modelos femeninos santificados o despreciados eran retratos planos, de una sola dimensión; o esto o lo otro; por norma general negaban la totalidad de lo que significaba ser mujer.

Era sobre todo, una belleza para hombres, sin ser en lo más mínimo provocatica; y esto es precisamente lo que no entenderán nunca las mujeres.

Er erkundigte sich nach Agnes. Sie sei weggegangen, sagte ich, und er lächelte anzüglich. "Sie gehen alle irgendwann", sagte er, "mach dir nichts draus, die Welt ist voll schöner Frauen.

Especially for upwardly mobile young females, declaring one's enthusiasm for Austen (whose heroines almost always move up in social and economic status as a result of the sterling marital alliances they form) has been a classic means of indicating one's purported good taste, good breeding, and good sense: I am an especially adorable member of the ruling class.

Es gibt zwei Sorten von Männern. Die einen verstehen 'etwas von Frauen', die anderen sind solche, die einfach 'Frauen verstehen'. Ich weiß nicht, welche Sorte mir verdächtiger ist.

...este cuidado por la reputacion de la castidad es valorado por las mujeres en la misma proporcion en que es desdeñado por los hombres, y los dos extremos son igualmente destructivos par la moralidad

Eu incomodava. Por quê? Simplesmente porque não ficava em casa, como todas as outras... Tinha um restaurante, trabalhava com homens, tratava-os de igual para igual e: estava ganhando dinheiro.

Even beyond the Middle East, the role of the independent women remains as warped as a Lewis Caroll novel. We may control $12 trillion of the world's $184 trillion in annual consumer spending (I read it in Newsweek), and yet our self-worth apparently ccomes in a shampoo bottle ("because you're worth it").

Even for women without children, trading hours that produce income for hours that produce “only” art seems like a foolish decision. What a loss for the world, though, to have women's voices silenced because art is our last priority.

Even choosing the perfect dinner wine loses its earth-shattering importance if your guests happen to be cannibals, and you, the unsuspecting entree.

Even in their reading, More charged, too many women were prone to superficiality. In search of a passing knowledge of books and authors, many read anthologies of excerpted works, that selected the brightest passages but left out deeper contexts—eighteenth-century Reader’s Digest were quite popular. More cautioned against a habit she viewed as cultivating a taste only for “delicious morsels,” one that spits out “every thing which is plain.” Good books, in contrast, require good readers: “In all well-written books, there is much that is good which is not dazzling; and these shallow critics should be taught, that it is for the embellishment of the more tame and uninteresting parts of his work, that the judicious poet commonly reserves those flowers, whose beauty is defaced when they are plucked from the garland into which he had so skillfully woven them.

Even if you had a feminist mother like mine, you still absorbed the messages about our limited future through the pores of your skin…We were baby-making machines, always had been, always would be, and we were supposed to be satisfied with that. The women who were beginning to assert their full and separate humanity were often caricatured as harpies, termagants and shrews.

Even on my worst day I'm Kill'n it!

Even though she looks the same as she always has, and the world goes on the way it always has, she isn’t the same on the inside. It’s as though she’s been paused on a single day, a single moment, as though she is stale, slowly rotting on the inside. It scares her, this standstill. There are days she wishes she’d corrode faster, until nothing is left. Those days are the worst, yet still somehow better than the ones in which she wants everything to go back to the way it was.

Even though it may look like the wicked is gaining ground, God is still in control. We need to pray for our nations, pray for others, pray for forgiveness and mercy over people. We need to love no matter who we are talking to, whether they are Atheist, Moslems, Lesbians, Homosexuals or Pagans. We need to love them and share the love of God with them and not judge and see if we can rebuild our broken nations.

Eventualities. A good woman can look far down the line and smell what is coming before a man even gets a sniff of it.

Even when she had to make some one a present of the kind called 'useful,' when she had to give an armchair or some table-silver or a walking-stick, she would choose 'antiques,' as though their long desuetude had effaced from them any semblance of utility and fitted them rather to instruct us in the lives of the men of other days than to serve the common requirements of our own.

Even with fasting and prayers you still need wisdom. At the root of every great accomplishment is wisdom. In all your getting get wisdom first.

Even when I worked in that world, I still wanted love so strong that the man would have no interest in another woman. Maybe you will always be incapable of giving that kind of love. You tell me I want too much. And maybe I do. But like you and your imagination, I can't help but be that way.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

Even without overt sexual abuse, all young women are known to experience a descent into low self-esteem at puberty, probably as they realize their role as sexual objects. The highly sensitive girl will sense all the implications even more and make self-protection a higher priority. Some overeat to become unattractive, some overstudy or overtrain so they have no free time, some pick one boy early and hang on to him for protection.

Ever wanted more. After all, women weren’t equal to men. They were better. Certainly not in strength or their skill in killing things, but when it came to propagation women absolutely trounced men. Men could bring some chips to the party, but that shindig was always going down in the belly of a woman. And considering that the hardest part of gathering food now was finding a parking spot, strength and killing things were significantly less high on the list of key survival traits.

Every crossroad in life has four options – quit, adapt, proceed, or accept, but quitting is a dead-end.

Every crisis is a wisdom crisis. If you have no peace around you then you lack wisdom.

Every day should be celebrated as Happy Women's Day. Why take an unnecessary risk?

Every day of your life, you are faced with opportunities. Unfortunately, the choices that face you are not heroic choices. They are bamboo tree choices. They are small, but progressive choices that steer you in a positive direction and over time you're bound to meet success. For most of us, we spend all our lives waiting for that life changing moment that will change the course of our lives and make us successful. Unfortunately, the clock is ticking. Every day, we choose not to tend to our bamboo tree, a choice is made for us and by the time we realize it, the seasons have passed and we have nothing to show for it.

Every generation builds on the work of the last, and pill or no pill, my generation could not have made the strides they have without all the work done by others. The same is true for future generations, although luckily for them the advancement of women is now snowballing. The legacy of the current crop of women over fifty—the accidental feminists—has given a leg up like no other to their daughter and granddaughters, not least through the #MeToo movement.

Every kind of relationship needs encouragement from both parties. Be it marriage, dating, friendship, enmity etc.

Every now and again I go into a school to teach self-defence classes to young women. I ask: How many of you know which way to look before crossing a busy street? And every single hand will go up. So then I ask: Who knows the fire drill? And most of the hands stay up. Even if I ask who knows CPR, or what to do if you smell gas, there are a lot of hands. But if I ask how many know how to walk around a corner properly—or escape a stranglehold, or find out if the man behind you really is following you—they lower their hands in confusion. Yet these are all sensible precautions. It’s just that women are taught to not think about the danger they are often in, or how to prevent it. We’re taught to feel fear, but not what to do about it.

Everyone from firefighters to sushi chefs who are experts in their fields can enter the mainstream conversation taking place on myriad media channels to voice their opinion’s and talk about their expertise.

Everyone is allowed a weakness, even women of the twentieth century.

Everyone is a social animal and everyone is socially relevant.. Everyone is responsible to contribute in whatever way they can.. The 'Contribution' needs no one's approval..It just needs to be done

Everyone knows what can happen to a woman, on the streets, in their own home, during the safety of the day, in the darkness of night. Yet still, when she dares speak of it, no one believes her.

Everyone knows that part of the spirit descends to the afterworld, while part of it remains with the family, but we have a special belief about the spirit of a young woman who has died before her marriage that goes contrary to this. She comes back to prey upon other unmarried girls--not to scare them but to take them to the afterworld with her so she might have company.

Everyone who knows anything of history also knows that great social revolutions are impossible without the feminine ferment. Social progress may be measured precisely by the social position of the fair sex (plain ones included).

Everyone loves a girl who can rise to a crisis.

Everyone loves a kick-ass girl. (Well- maybe not her enemies, but you know what I mean.)

Everything is about disclosure.... chemistry... love.... reaction... you can't do anything.... ... A pain... a biatch... pain the ass... two women... what next?

every session I had no fewer than sixteen girls with “allergies” to dairy and wheat—cheese and bread basically—but also to garlic, eggplant, corn, and nuts. They had cleverly developed “allergies,” I believe, to the foods they had seen their own mothers fearing and loathing as diet fads passed through their homes. I could’ve strangled their mothers for saddling these girls with the idea that food is an enemy—some of them only eight years old and already weird about wanting a piece of bread—and I would’ve liked to bludgeon them, too, for forcing me to participate in their young daughters’ fucked-up relationship with food.

Everything that highly educated men can do to obscure a simple truth, to make a woman doubt her feelings, to make her own thoughts a muddle, they do to her. They use their learning as a hurdle to herd her one way and then the other and then finally trap her in contradictions of which she can make no sense.

Every woman is different in her own special way.

Every time I saw Lacey, she'd gained five more pounds. She was turning into the kind of obese girl who does her hair like a forties pinup and wears bright red lipstick, a blue polka-dot dress with a white doily collar, colorful tattoos across her huge, smushed cleavage, as if these considerations would distract us from how fat and miserable she'd become.

Every woman I'd ever known had two sets of memories: the one they wanted to remember and the one their heart wouldn't let them forget. The first kind were chosen, mostly positive and personality building, but the second would live on forever, despite age and fatigue and life-stealing diseases like dementia and Alzheimer's. Coded on the heart like a hard drive, the feelings never vanished.

Every woman feels. It just takes the right man to make things combust.

Evil is real but God is greater.

Excuse me,’ I said cheerily. ‘Is the job still going?’ I pointed to the notice. ‘Of course,’ he said, looking back at me with a warm smile. I think he was as hopeful as I was about where this could lead to. ‘We need all the hands we can get.’ I looked at the tight swell of his shirt against his chest, and thought, 'Mmm, yes, I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

‪#‎EXPERIENCE‬ ‪#‎WE‬ ‪#‎CHOOSE‬ Experience blocks experience.. Experience opens up an experience..

Every time we cheer the downfall of a powerful woman, we're giving ourselves the message that power is bad and we shouldn't desire it. Every time we revel in a beautiful woman's aging or weight gain, we reinforce the idea that we, too, are less valuable if we are old or overweight. Every time we gloat over a woman's loss of a husband to a younger, prettier rival, we are reminding ourselves that our own relationship is unstable, that someday our man, too, will move on to greener pastures.

Every woman who enters the sea carries a coffin on her back,” she warned the gathering. “In this world, in the undersea world, we tow the burdens of a hard life. We are crossing between life and death every day.” These traditional words were often repeated on Jeju, but we all nodded somberly as though hearing them for the first time. “When we go to the sea, we share the work and the danger,” Mother added. “We harvest together, sort together, and sell together, because the sea itself is communal.

Every time you see a beautiful woman, just remember, somebody else got tired of her shit