Attempts to connect men's circumstances too closely with their literary productions are usually, I believe, unsuccessful.
During the years he was never sick, except of course for the chronic indigestion which was universal, and still is, with men who live alone, cook for themselves, and eat in solitude.
To sit alone in the lamplight with a book spread out before you and hold intimate converse with men of unseen generations - such is pleasure beyond compare.
It's as if every conversation with a woman was a test, and men always failed it, because they always lacked the key to the code and so they never quite understood what the conversation was really about.
There was no honor in war, less in killing, and none in dying. But there was true dignity in how men comported themselves in battle. And there was always honor to be found in standing for a just cause and defending the defenseless.
What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.
Our historical experience teaches us that men imitate one another, that their attitudes are statistically calculable, their opinions manipulable, and that man is therefore less an individual (a subject) than an element in a mass.
It seems you are the kind of squaw those Indians would like to have, but make sure they don't! One who keeps her men in line!
The consensus seemed to be that if really large numbers of men were sent to storm the mountain, then enough might survive the rocks to take the citadel. This is essentially the basis of all military thinking.
All women speak two languages: the language of men and the language of silent suffering. Some women speak a third, the language of queens.
Advice!Nobody tells us how to be men. We just are." "That is probably why you make such a bad job of it.- Perrin and Egwene
Even a feeble-minded man wants to be like other men. A child may not know how to feed itself, or what to eat, yet it knows hunger.
Young women dream of romance and passion as men dream of conquest because those dreams are necessary goads to leaving home and growing up.
It's called civilization. Women invented it, and every time you men blow it all to bits, we just invent it again.
Men were snoring, twitching and whimpering, struggling with nightmares less terrible than reality.
Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against - well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men.
...but you - women like you are dangerous- ominous – take care, Love – men will first fear you, then later, turn you into a deity...
What is evil?" asked the younger man. The round web, with its black center, seemed to watch them both. "A web we men weave." Ged answered.
Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy
The wounded were crying, and the rest were dying. Jack stood alone in a hallway of mangled men, who had been trained for this
Down in the cellar the Gestapo were licensed to practice was the Ministry of Justice called ‘heightened interrogation’. The rules had been drawn up by civilised men in warm offices and they stipulated the presence of a doctor.
