When men feel the wound that cannot heal, they either bury themselves in woman's arms and ask her for healing, which she cannot provide, or they hide themselves in macho pride and enforced loneliness.
Beirut is the Elizabeth Taylor of cities: insane, beautiful, falling apart, aging, and forever drama laden.She'll also marry any infatuated suitor who promises to make her life more comfortable, no matter how inappropriate he is." (p.88)
Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one's wall, even if for only a moment, a moment before one immures oneself again.
Is life less thrilling if your neighbors are rational, if they don’t bomb your power stations whenever they feel you need to be admonished? Is it less rousing if they don’t rattle your windows and nerves with indiscriminate sonic booms just becau...
You look at love, and especially woman, as something hostile, something against which you put up a defense, even if unsuccessfully. You feel that their power over you gives you a sensation of pleasurable torture, of pungent cruelty. This is a genuine...
I doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman.
Love from its very nature must be transitory. To seek for a secret that would render it constant would be as wild a search as for the philosopher’s stone or the grand panacea: and the discovery would be equally useless, or rather pernicious to mank...
Rather than being liberated by er sexuality, a woman's reliance on sexual attractiveness was just one more way in which she allowed herself to be stereotyped and thus used by men
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.
Are you here about the infestation?" MacMillian stiffened. "I don't... We aren't-" Lena cleared her throat. "I'm afraid bugs aren't really our specialty." "Not bugs." The woman shook her head vigorously. "Ghosts. Whole place is crawling with 'em.
Hubert's wife, Mindy, was a tiny powerhouse of a woman with a halo of wild blond hair and eye makeup so complex it took me a while to locate her pupils. She was clearly the brains of the operation, such as she was.
Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.
Casting my own eye down Fifth Avenue as my belly swelled, I would register with incredulity: Every one of these people came from a woman's cunt.
She refuses to support the slogan - Men are equal to women - if this translates to her femininity being faded out or confused by trying to please a selfish idea of anyone wanting a woman to be both herself and a man.
I was angry at myself for my inclination to vice. I longed for the day when a state of frenzy would lead my mind to sober pasture, just as it had for Saint Augustine. I longed for the day when the love of one woman would be sacred enough to forget al...
All matters being spiritual; man or woman can only find peace when peace is realized from within.
I didn't want to be the woman who gave herself over willingly to the first man to notice her. I didn't want to be the stupid girl in every novel who loved without question and entered relationships that didn't make sense.
There was the woman I was before my mom died and the one I was now, my old life sitting on the surface of me like a bruise.
Experience had taught me that innocence seldom utters outraged shrikes. Guilt does. Innocence is a mighty shield, and the man or woman covered by it, is much more likely to answer calmly: 'My life is blameless. Look into it, if you like, for you will...
I suspected, however, that I wasn't homesick for anything I would find at home when I returned. The longing was for what I wouldn't find: the past and all the people and places there were lost to me.
She felt a soft brush of lips against her forehead, heard the other woman murmur, "Sleep now, chére." Chére, Hannah though. Cherished. It was a good thing to be. She wrapped the word around her and carried it down with her into sleep.
