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M Quotes

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“Misogyny was born of fear of women. It spawned the ideology of male superiority. But this was ideology, not statement of fact; as such, it could not be confirmed, but was open to constant doubt. Male status was not immutable. Myths of matriarchies and Amazons societies showed female dominance. Three of the eleven extant comedies of Aristophanes show women in successful opposition to men. ... These were the nightmares of victors: that someday the vanquished would arise and treat their ex-masters as they themselves had been treated.”

“Misophorism is the absolute reality that misathymia (which is Misery—which is Death—which is Truth) is everywhere, the ubiquitous constant—it is inescapable. Reality is naught but misathymia. It inheres within every facet of life. We must thus consider its avenues and disabuse ourselves of petty nothings, for if the ultimate goal of life is comfort and joy, it is ill-suited for existence, as all Life Forms must toil. A worm, with no cerebrations whatever, must, by its ingrained nature, suffer to survive, lest it starve or be devoured. Higher statures face the same. An ape; it must protect its territory lest it too starve or be maimed. What of their assailants? Has the Creator (whatever form it takes!) bequeathed to them unique ataraxy? The barbaric slaughter of prey betrays the starvation of the predator. Should it fail to nourish itself, desperation irrupts into its withering form, until, at last, it betakes itself to cannibalism. Nature’s brutality is manifest. No creature knows peace; fear inheres within each. And what of Man, the highest stature of all? Within him misathymia is inordinate. His intellect has rendered him beyond all other creatures, doubtless a bitter Curse. Consciousness educes the silent agony from within him, for when he finds shelter and nourishment, his mind ambles about, his atavistic nature befuddled with none to Kill and none to flee from. In this, greater forms of misery may be achieved. The Brutish Man cannot conceive of the miseries of homelessness, nor of the agonies of ostracization, of exile, of impoverishment. A man without the conception of wealth cannot comprehend the loss of it, nor the torment it educes. The Ancient Man cannot fathom the Array of New Horrors that assail him today. This betrays the cruelty of all things; life’s predilection for suffering is unquestionable. All Good exists to further life’s affinity for greater forms of horror. For this, Sane men have but one choice: to destroy oneself.”

“Miss A-la-na here seems to think that my pork medallion with caramelized-onion pan sauce is a little heavy-handed, that the onions need a lighter touch, a less intense flavor. Do you think the recipe needs altering? Hmmm? In your INFINITE wisdom and experience?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, smug and smooth and utterly contemptuous. And I was not in the mood. "In my HUMBLE opinion," I began, equally quiet and calm, and no less scathing, "the recipe indeed needs some lightening. And since you ostensibly hired me to help make you look good and ensure that the recipes you put out in the world can actually be successfully produced by the general population, you should trust that I am going to take your recipes and make them better, and leave it at that. I do things the way they should be done, and you cook your dishes like a good little boy and STAY OUT OF MY ASS.”

“Miss Akanegakubo, you have an extraordinary talent for the fashionable and cute... ... and you have used that talent to create dishes that are 100 percent correct. Which is why you simply could not tolerate it. Someone presented a dish outside the realm you rule... ... and it held a shining allure completely unknown to you! Tadokoro's dish aimed for 120 percent, even if it meant abandoning the safety within the "correct". It had- no, she had a fighting style you couldn't comprehend... ... and it left you positively incensed! I know that feeling all too well. I experienced it once myself. It was in my castle, where my rule was absolute. And on that day... ... you appeared.”

“Miss Althea?" "I don't blame you, Jesse," she said at last, taking control of her whirling emotions. "I must have…I must have led you astray somehow. But you must never touch me again." Jesse's disappointment was palpable. "Never?" That seemed impossible. To be allowed to know how wonderful it was to feel and smell and taste her and then to never be allowed that again. It was so unfair. Jesse wanted to cry. It was too unfair.”

“Miss America was always white. All the beautiful brown women in America, beautiful sun tans, beautiful shapes, all types of complexions, but she always was white.And Miss World was always white, and Miss Universe was always white.And the angel fruit cake was the white cake and the devil food cake was the chocolate cake.I said, 'Momma, why is everything white?' I always wondered. And the President lived in the White House.”

“Miss Bennet, I am quite aware of your superior talent for cutting down the Lord's forsaken flock. I merely mean to spare your gown.' Thank you,' said Elizabeth, composing herself, 'but I should rather my gown be soiled than my honor.”

“Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “the devil himself couldn’t scare you.” She forced her eyes to meet his. “That’s not a compliment, is it?” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he murmured. To all who observed, he was the soul of propriety, but Hyacinth caught the daring gleam in his eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply. And then he straightened as if nothing had happened and said, “Do let me know what you decide.” She just stared at him. “About the compliment,” he added. “I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you.” Her mouth fell open. He smiled. Broadly. “Speechless, even. I’m to be commended.” “You—” “No. No,” he said, lifting one hand in the air and pointing toward her as if what he really wanted to do was place his finger on her lips and shush her. “Don’t ruin it. The moment is too rare.”

“Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron,” Sebastian said approvingly. “Excellent choice.” “You have read this?” Alexei asked. “It’s not as good as Miss Davenport and the Dark Marquis, of course, but worlds better than Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel.” Harry found himself rendered speechless. “I’m reading Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman right now.” “Silent?” Harry echoed. “There is a noticeable lack of dialogue,” Sebastian confirmed.”

“Miss Cecily," she gasped, and then her eyes went to Will. She clapped a hand over her mouth, turned, and bolted back into the house. "Oh, dear," said Tessa. "I have that effect on women," Will said. " I probably should have warned you before you agreed to marry me." "I can still change my mind," Tessa said sweetly. "Don't you dare-," he began with a breathless half laugh.”

“Miss Celia stares down into the pot like she's looking for her future. "Are you happy, Minny?" "Why you ask me funny questions like that?" "But are you?" "Course I's happy. You happy too. Big house, big yard, husband looking after you." I frown at Miss Celia and I make sure she can see it. Because ain't that white people for you, wondering if they are happy ENOUGH.”

“Miss Climpson," said Lord Peter, "is a manifestation of the wasteful way in which this country is run. Look at electricity, Look at water-power. Look at the tides. Look at the sun. Millions of power units being given off into space every minute. Thousands of old maids, simply bursting with useful energy, forced by our stupid social system into hydros and hotels and communities and hostels and posts as companions, where their magnificent gossip-powers and units of inquisitiveness are allowed to dissipate themselves or even become harmful to the community, while the ratepayers' money is spent on getting work for which these women are providentially fitted, inefficiently carried out by ill-equipped policemen like you.”