Gender Identity

Anyone who says he can see through women is missing a lot.

A woman can be anything that the man who loves her would have her be.

Man has his will - but woman has her way.

A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.

Most women set out to try to change a man, and when they have changed him they don't like him.

I see when men love women they give but a little of their lives, but women, when they love, give everything.

Among such persons are those women who transform themselves into just that function of a man that is but weakly developed in him, and then become his purse, or his politics, or his social intercourse. Such beings maintain themselves best when they insert themselves in an alien organism; if they do not succeed they become vexed, irritated, and eat themselves up.

A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her imagination, and then they both speak of it as an affair of “the heart.”

It will need more than the Nineteenth Amendment to convince me that there are no differences between men and women, or that legislation cannot take those differences into account.

 

A woman never forgets her sex. She would rather talk with a man than an angel, any day.

When I think of talking, it is of course with a woman. For talking at its best being an inspiration, it wants a corresponding divine quality of receptiveness, and where will you find this but in a woman?

A country where men despise sex, and live for it.

 

Men forget but never forgive. Women forgive but never forget.

Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.

Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.

With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,

 

Man for the field and woman for the hearth: Man for the sword and for the needle she: Man with the head and woman with the heart: Man to command and woman to obey; All else confusion.

 

Man is the hunter; woman is his game.

 

Therefore if you insist upon fighting to protect me, or “our” country, let it be understood, soberly and rationally between us, that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannotshare; to procure benefits which I have notshared and probably will not share; but not togratify my instincts, or to protect myself or my country. For . . . in fact, as a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As awoman my country is the whole world.

When, however, one reads of a witch beingducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of awise woman selling herbs, or even of a veryremarkable man who had a mother, then Ithink we are on the track of a lost novelist, asuppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Brontë who dashedher brains out on the moor or mopped andmowed about the highways crazed with thetorture that her gift had put her to. Indeed, Iwould venture to guess that Anon, who wroteso many poems without signing them, wasoften a woman.

Very learned women are to be found, in thesame manner as female warriors; but they areseldom or never inventors.

I believe that [in the United States] the socialchanges that bring nearer to the same level the father and son, the master and servant, and, in general, superiors and inferiors will raise woman and make her more and more the equal of man.

If I were asked . . . to what the singularprosperity and growing strength of that people[the Americans] ought mainly to be attributed, I should reply: To the superiority of their women.

Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality.