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Quote by Lynda Cohen Loigman

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The Love Elixir of Augusta Stern

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Lynda Cohen Loigman

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“SONG OF ONE OF THE GIRLS Here in my heart I am Helen; I’m Aspasia and Hero, at least. I’m Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Staël; I’m Salomé, moon of the East. Here in my soul I am Sappho; Lady Hamilton am I, as well. In me Récamier vies with Kitty O’Shea, With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell. I’m of the glamorous ladies At whose beckoning history shook. But you are a man, and see only my pan, So I stay at home with a book.”

“Although the association between women and cats who are standoffish and wrapped up in themselves is a longstanding one, there are, as we saw in Chapter 3, plenty of women who feel a need to love and not simply to be loved. (Does Freud restrict women to loving either themselves or children as extensions of themselves, but not men?) In any case, Freud introduces here a curious facet of love, which would seem to apply not only to men, which is that we human beings are attracted to people (women and children, for example) and animals (cats, for example) that show little or no interest in us. Are we then interested in anything that seems narcissistically wrapped up in itself (its interest in itself pointing the way for our own interest or desire?) or are we interested in these things precisely because they seem inaccessible? Do we pursue them because they shun us and wound our own narcissism? Do we pursue them because they seem the most valuable – valuable precisely because they are so difficult to win – because we suspect that we will never win them? Or do we pursue them because we identify with something about them or want to be like them?”

“Are women complete human beings, with our own socialised and embodied experiences, our stories forever changing as we move through time? Or are we a cobbled together, pick-and-mix range of woman-y offerings, most of which fall into decay as we age? Is a woman really a woman when there’s nothing more for men to take from or project onto her? When she might, in fact, seem to be on the verge of living for herself?”

“Leak the air from their tires, call them in the middle of the night whispering sour nothings, let their dogs out of their yards... these men who hurt you, who wrong you, who hit you, make them miserable in every way you can. Some would call it spite, for women it will be called spite and being vindictive; while injured men receive their justice and pass out their vengeance, women will be called petty and catty, won't get to feel the honor a word like revenge endows upon men. You will. Inside you will declare it. You will declare victory when you hurt them back and move on from them faster than a machine hems a jean...”