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Quote by Candace Bushnell

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Summer and the City

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Candace Bushnell
Candace Bushnell

Candace Bushnell is an American novelist renowned for her novel 'Sex and the City', which has become a cultural icon. Born on December 1, 1958, she has made significant contributions to contemporary women's fiction with her insightful and witty portrayal of modern women's lives. more

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“I really liked it.” She covers her mouth in horror. “If I like sex, do you think it means I can’t be a feminist?” “No.” I shake my head. “Because being a feminist -- I think it means being in charge of your sexuality. You decide who you want to have sex with. It means not trading your sexuality for… other things.” “Like marrying some gross guy who you’re not in love with just so you can have a nice house with a picket fence.” “Or marrying a rich old geezer. Or a guy who expects you to cook him dinner every night and take care of the children,” I say, thinking of Samantha. “Or a guy who makes you have sex with him whenever he wants, even if you don’t,” Miranda concludes. We look at each other in triumph, as if we’ve finally solved one of the world’s great problems.”

“Only the “˜intercourse’ part.” Miranda makes quotation marks with her fingers. “Why do they call it intercourse anyway? It makes it sound like it’s some kind of conversation. Which it isn’t. It’s penetration, pure and simple. There’s no give-and-take involved.” “It’s an act of war,” Miranda objects, getting heated. “The penis is saying, “˜Let me in,’ and the vagina is saying, “˜Get the hell away from me, creep.”

“On the other hand, it seemed to be working. For Samantha, anyway. And in comparison, my own relationship with Bernard was sorely lacking. Not only in sex, but in the simple fact that I still wasn’t sure I was ever going to see him again. I guess the best thing about living with a guy is that you know you’re going to see him again. I mean, he has to come home at some point, right?”

“I've become a handmaiden to other people’s relationships. Aiding and abetting. And now I’m al alone. Thank God for Miranda. I’ll always have her. Miranda will never have a relationship. So where the hell is she? “Having sex,” she repeats. She slides onto the cushion. “I met a guy and we’ve been having nonstop sex for the last two days. And the worst thing about it? I couldn’t poop. I honestly could not poop until he finally left this morning.” “He’s not the best-looking guy. But I told myself that looks aren’t everything. And he really is smart. Which can be a turn-on. I’ve always said I’d rather be with a smart, ugly guy than a goodlooking dumb guy. Because what are you going to talk about with a dumb guy?” “So then,” Miranda continues, “we’re walking through the Mews -- that cute little cobblestoned street -- and suddenly he pushes me up against the wall and starts making out with me!” “I hardly know him,” she giggles, “but so what? If it’s right, it’s right, don’t you think?”

“He’s probably one of those “love the one you’re with” guys -- meaning he automatically goes after whatever woman happens to be around when he’s feeling horny." "Just another reason why I’ll never get married," I say, getting out of the car. “Oh, Carrie.” He sighs. “I feel sorry for you, then. I worry that you’ll never find true love.”

“Babies! That’s all it’s about. Who ever knew the world would be all about babies?” Samantha shouts. “Every time I see a baby, I swear, I want to throw up,” Miranda says. “I did throw up once.” I nod eagerly. “I saw a filthy bib, and that was it.” “Why don’t these people just get cats and a litter box?” Samantha asks.”

“It’s the inner voice telling you that you are built for more, the one that will never let you settle and is always driving you to push harder. You know you’re capable of so much more than you’re showing up as right now, and that voice drives you to always discover a greater version of who you are.”