Best 5610 quotes in «women quotes» category

Buena en la cama,” he had heard men say about women: how good they were in bed. It was a phrase that came with a knowing look but never any details. You were supposed to understand, but he didn’t. The peasant girl he told Clare about had done nothing but lie in silence beneath him. Good in bed meant wild, he thought. It meant that the woman had no inhibitions—and that was Clare. He loved this but it scared him.

I call [fourth-wave feminism] fainting–couch feminism, a la the delicate Victorian ladies who retreated to an elegant chaise when overcome with emotion. As an equality feminist from the 1970s, I am dismayed by this new craze. Women are not children. We are not fragile little birds who can’t cope with jokes, works of art, or controversial speakers. Trigger warnings and safe spaces are an infantilizing setback for feminism—and for women.

I came at no price; I am at no price.

I can be a little prickly when people make assumptions about women.

I can hear the roar of women's silence

I can be a stupid girl inside of a crazy woman at times over you. If I weren’t, you should be worried! We all do stupid shit. I might as well be a fool for someone worth it.

I can never do justice to the great feeling of amazement and encouragement I felt when, perhaps for the first time in American history, white citizens of a Southern state banded together to come to Selma and show their indignation about the injustices against the African-Americans.

I can read minds but I still don't understand women. Or men. Humans. I don't understand humans.

I can sit here and say I've survived heart break and all those nights I thought I couldn't bare to live without you, yeah I just want to thank them, because I did & now I couldn't imagine a life with you.

I can't assume responsibility for a man's infidelity, no more than I can take credit for his choice to remain faithful.

I can't over-emphasize how important an exquisite perfume is, to be wrapped and cradled in an enchanting scent upon your skin is a magic all on its own! The notes in that precious liquid will remind you that you love yourself and will tell other people that they ought to love you because you know that you're worth it. The love affair created by a good perfume between you and other people, you and nature, you and yourself, you and your memories and anticipations and hopes and dreams; it is all too beautiful a thing!

I certainly believe this: that it is better to be impetuous than cautious, because Fortune is a woman, and if you want to keep her under it is necessary to beat her and force her down. It is clear that she more often allows herself to be won over by impetuous men than by those who proceed coldly. And so, like a woman, Fortune is always the friend of young men, for they are less cautious, more ferocious, and command her with more audacity.

I cant take it like this much longer, Milt," Karen said muffledly into the big CKC shirt with its male smell, allowing herself the luxury of letting the bars all the way down for once, enjoying for just this moment the eternal degradation of being a woman. "I cant take it much longer," she whimpered, tasting it, the eternally caught and held hard in the grasp of some man, the forever humiliated heavy weight it was impossible to squirm out from under, the forever helpless except for the mercy of him who always takes what he wants without any, and that all women learn instinctively not to expect [...] That was all they wanted. That was all any of them wanted. You give them the greatest thing you possess, the most intimate secret, and they --- just take it. Well, let them have it. Let them all have some of it. Let them root and rut and rowel, as if it was no more important than that why were they all so anxious to keep it away from each other?

I can understand backward patriarchal reasoning coming from a male, but from a woman - and of all people, a leader of women? It says something profound about leadership - and, if anything - what it says about followers is not very flattering at all.

I come across too much material on "how to make a man want you", "how to make a man commit", "how to make a man finally pop the question", "how to make a man take you seriously", "how to get into a man's emotions." And I laugh. My dear fellow women, enough! Do not busy yourselves with such things! Instead, fall in love with yourself!

I could become servile, cloying, saccharinely sweet: the whole package of lies that passes in the world as femininity.

I could feel his whole body trying to claim me, want me, own me in lust, and it made me feel so valuable and wanted. As I was bent over the table, I felt like I was the world to him, and he could think of nothing else, could feel nothing else: he was consumed with my body, dedicated to exploring my female sexual power and energy, and his desperate hitting of me with the belt felt like he would rather die, than be without the chance to connect with me in sex.

I could neither laugh with nor at the solemn utterances of men I esteemed ponderous asses; nor could I laugh, nor engage in my old-time lightsome persiflage, with the silly superficial chatterings of women, who, underneath all their silliness and softness, were as primitive, direct, and deadly in their pursuit of biological destiny as the monkeys women were before they shed their furry coats and replaced them with the furs of other animals.

I conquered outer worlds just as he had. I expressed masculine strength and power just as he had. But it didn't bring me closer to him or to others like him because I had become one of the guys, and that's not what most men are looking for. He had never loved me for being a great guy.

I constantly watch people like Marion Cotillard or Cate Blanchett or Kate Winslet... I have a fear of being passive, and what I admire about all those actresses is that every choice they make is really strong. Even if they're playing something very quiet, it's visceral and bold.

I could never love better when I was young, I loved better when I was old.

I could do a good imitation of a competent young woman.

I couldn't possibly repeat the words he used .They were so unsettling that I sent Nancy indoors to find my spectacles.

Ida was a natural historian who knew how to throw in enough fiction to keep up dramtic tension. And she was replete with details, like a big fat colorful nineteenth-century historical novel, inching forward slowly....Ida's narrative line, like her waistline, was ample.

I'd been all around the world, and I've never yet found a place where women aren't hit and exploited and hated. Men needed us, but God, they hated us, too. Deeply, chronically hated us.

I'd been at the mercy of a prick on a power trip, the kind of buttoned-up bantam rooster who gets off on control and then, when you resist him, tells you that you've got issues with control.

I'd discovered that the range of beauty in breasts is wide; while one should never lightly say that a pair is ugly, one can easily say that a pair of breasts is beautiful. Hedgehogs are beautiful sometimes; so are baby pigs.

IDEALISM is not passé.. It can cause the unprecedented... We need more IDEALISTS, more DREAMERS, more DOERS One person to 'walk the other way' is enough to cause a storm

I define me. You don't.

I design clothes because I don’t want women to look all innocent and naïve… I want woman to look stronger… I don’t like women to be taken advantage of… I don’t like men whistling at women in the street. I think they deserve more respect. I like men to keep their distance from women, I like men to be stunned by an entrance. I’ve seen a woman get nearly beaten to death by her husband. I know what misogyny is… I want people to be afraid of the women I dress.

I deserve better —such a dangerous, mad thought for a woman to entertain.

I decided that being called “crazy” by a man was not an insult but a challenge. It gives the woman an opportunity to say, “Crazy? Oh, I’ll show you fucking crazy.

I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement would not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it. "I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everybody's right to beautiful, radiant things." Anarchism meant that to me, and I would live it in spite of the whole world — prisons, persecution, everything. Yes, even in spite of the condemnation of my own closest comrades I would live my beautiful ideal.

I didn't get to God by effort or title, I got there by invitation. God can lift you quickly if you let Him. He really cares.

I didn't come from a success lineage but I am so glad that my earthly lineage is not my final story because when I gave my life to Jesus twelve years back, God interrupted my story.

I didn’t realize that in his wish to transform me was the proof that he didn’t like me as I was, he wanted me to be different, or, rather, he didn’t want just a woman, he wanted the woman he imagined he himself would be if he were a woman. For Franco, I said, I was an opportunity for him to expand into the feminine, to take possession of it: I constituted the proof of his omnipotence, the demonstration that he knew now to be not only a man in the right way, but also a woman.

...I discovered I'm having a girl. And I hae spent a good portion of the last few weeks thinking about the kind f woman I'd like to see her become and the lessons I'd like to impart to her. Somewhere along the line, I decided it doesn't matter to me what type of woman she is, as much as what type of woman she is not. I never ever want her to become the type of woman who, suffocated by a screwed up society, fears herself, her desires, her ambitions, her impulses, her potential power.

I’d love to be tried out,’ I said, with a suggestive smile. ‘One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.’ I saw a little flicker of fun in his eyes.

I didn't understand women at that period. I still don't for that matter. Nor men either. Nor animals either. What I understand best, which is not saying much, are my pains.

I’d loved women who were old and who were young; those extra kilos and large rumps, and others so thin there was barely even skin to pinch, and every time I held them, I worried I would snap them in two. But for all of these: where they had merited my love was in their delicious smell. Scent is such a powerful tool of attraction, that if a woman has this tool perfectly tuned, she needs no other. I will forgive her a large nose, a cleft lip, even crossed-eyes; and I’ll bathe in the jouissance of her intoxicating odour.

I'd learned that the same internal voice that told me I wasn't good enough had a habit of judging other women, too. They fed into each other, so it was best to quell such thoughts before they gathered strength.

I’d love to have the kind of friend who would visit me before visiting a man. Otherwise I know where I’m ranked, which is below him.

I do not love only the women I desire, I only desire the women I love.

I do not need to grow up or train in the gym in order to beat the devil, when I know that my God can beat him for me.

I do not have any trust fund, I have always trusted God for all my funds.

I do not wait till i am in trouble till i can call on God. I have learned to speak the way God speaks, I have learned to see things the way God sees and I have also learned to handle it the way God handles it. Christ is the daily language of my mouth and faith is my daily talk and my actions have become the language of my life.

I don't believe in the idea of the strong woman; there is simply woman.

I don't believe in women hurting other women.

I don't agree with Freud's theory about women having penis envy. Don't get me wrong, gentlemen; your penises are great. I'm just not personally interested in possessing one myself. To be honest, the last thing I need is to worry about the size of another one of my body parts.

I don't get bad bitches; I make them.