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Woman Quotes

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Woman Quotes

“A Jewish woman in exile in the 1930s is an antihero.”

PastHumanityPoliticsSocialWomenHistorySocietyFeminismHistoricalJewFeministWomanWomen EmpowermentWomens RightsNaziWomanhoodWomen S RightsExileWomen S FictionNazism1930sWomen S InspirationalWoman QuotesWomen QuotesWomen S StrengthJewishNazi GermanyJewsWomen And MenNazisWoman S StrengthWomen WritersWoman QuotationsWoman S CharacterHistory Repeating ItselfHistory Of The United StatesAntiheroJewish IdentityHistory Of ReligionWoman S SecretsExilioWoman To WomanHistorical PerspectiveWomanismFeminist MemoirAntiheroesExiledWoman S CharmAntiheroineExilesJewish Diaspora1930Jewish Question1930 SNazi German 1945Antiheros
Author:Núria Añó
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“Being known. This, of course, is the goal, the agenda so carefully hidden it may be unknown even to the self. The cutter cuts to make the pain at her center visible. The anorexic starves to make manifest her hunger and vulnerability. The extremes announce, This is who I am, this is what I feel, this is what happens when I don't get what I need. In quadraphonic sound, they give voice to the most central human hunger, which is the desire to be recognized, to be known and loved because of, and in spite of, who you are; they give voice to the sorrow that takes root when that hunger is unsatisfied.”

WomenVoiceMental HealthHungerWomanVulnerabilityBeing Known
Book:Appetites: Why Women Want
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“Boys—I think you're old enough now that I can talk about—certain topics with you. You know, most men expect a woman's body to look a certain way and not all of them do look that way. So sometimes a woman has to do something that will change her appearance so that she'll be accepted by the people around her. People expect a woman's breasts to be a certain size and mine aren't that size. They're smaller. So I wear a padded brassiere—it makes it look like my breasts are the size that most women's are.”

WomanBreastsMisogynyWomanhoodBody DysmorphiaSmall BreastsWomens BodiesBody InsecuritiesExpectations On Women
Book:I Never Liked You: A Comic Strip Narrative
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“Is it possible my lover is not the man I thought him to be? Does he see me at all? Am I projecting my own inner man onto him? Am I forcing him to take responsibility for my undeveloped talents? Am I treating my body as my mother treated hers? Am I thinking like my father? Where am I blindly reacting as they did? Where am I still reacting childishly? Is my anger coming from my gut or from my head? Is it feminine anger or animus anger? (Feminine anger cleanses; animus anger leaves me tense.) Guided by the response of the unconscious as revealed in dreams, we differentiate grain from grain, question after question, until one day we find our own authentic voice. ~Marion Woodman,The Pregnant Virgin, Page”

WomanFeminineVirginCarl JungAnimus
Book:The Pregnant Virgin: A Process of Psychological Transformation
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“Ikiwa huna pesa na una mke na watoto kwa mfano, mke wako (wanawake walio wengi) hatakuona wa maana kwa sababu ya ustawi wa maisha ya familia yake. Ikiwa una mwanamke asiyekuwa na busara au hekima ya kutosha, au mwanamke ambaye akili zake zimefyatuka kidogo, atakusaliti kutafuta bwana au mtu mwenye maana. Kama huna pesa huna maana kwa mwanamke.”

LifeChildrenWisdomWomenMoneyBrainFamilyWifeProsperityWomanPersonPrudenceSenseFamiliaMaishaMtuPesaAkiliMwanamkeWatotoHekimaMaanaMisterWanawakeBwanaMkeBusaraUstawi
Author:Enock Maregesi
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“Two ideas are opposed — not concepts or abstractions, but Ideas which were in the blood of men before they were formulated by the minds of men. The Resurgence of Authority stands opposed to the Rule of Money; Order to Social Chaos, Hierarchy to Equality, socio-economico-political Stability to constant Flux; glad assumption of Duties to whining for Rights; Socialism to Capitalism, ethically, economically, politically; the Rebirth of Religion to Materialism; Fertility to Sterility; the spirit of Heroism to the spirit of Trade; the principle of Responsibility to Parliamentarism; the idea of Polarity of Man and Woman to Feminism; the idea of the individual task to the ideal of ‘happiness’; Discipline to Propaganda-compulsion; the higher unities of family, society, State to social atomism; Marriage to the Communistic ideal of free love; economic self-sufficiency to senseless trade as an end in itself; the inner imperative to Rationalism.”

GodRealityTruthReligionHumanityOrderCultureUniverseNatureFeminismDutyAuthorityEconomicsEqualityWomanMaterialismIndividualismHeroismHierarchyNatural LawRationalismLeftismFar RightAntifeminismThe WestRightism
Book:Imperium: Philosophy of History & Politics
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“Where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? — Love's Labor Lost. The eyes appears to be more immediately connected with the soul than any other organ. A woman reflects every emotion, almost every thought from her two wonderful, priceless eyes, and no feature of her face is more a telltale of her nature. "Show me," says the old Chinese proverb, "a man's eyes, and I will tell you what he might have been. Show me his mouth, and I will tell you what he has been." The same is true of women. Up to thirty or thirty-five a woman may be actress enough to make her eyes tell one tale, while her life would reveal another; but little by little the true state of a woman's soul stands forth in the expression, the frankness, the furtiveness, the candor, or the boldness”

NatureBeautyWomanFemmeEye EyesSoul Emotion
Book:Harriet Hubbard Ayer's book: A Complete and Authentic Treatise on the Laws of Health and Beauty
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“In the course of my life I have had pre-pubescent ballerinas; emaciated duchesses, dolorous and forever tired, melomaniac and morphine-sodden; bankers' wives with eyes hollower than those of suburban streetwalkers; music-hall chorus girls who tip creosote into their Roederer when getting drunk... I have even had the awkward androgynes, the unsexed dishes of the day of the *tables d'hote* of Montmartre. Like any vulgar follower of fashion, like any member of the herd, I have made love to bony and improbably slender little girls, frightened and macabre, spiced with carbolic and peppered with chlorotic make-up. Like an imbecile, I have believed in the mouths of prey and sacrificial victims. Like a simpleton, I have believed in the large lewd eyes of a ragged heap of sickly little creatures: alcoholic and cynical shop girls and whores. The profundity of their eyes and the mystery of their mouths... the jewellers of some and the manicurists of others furnish them with *eaux de toilette*, with soaps and rouges. And Fanny the etheromaniac, rising every morning for a measured dose of cola and coca, does not put ether only on her handkerchief. It is all fakery and self-advertisement - *truquage and battage*, as their vile argot has it. Their phosphorescent rottenness, their emaciated fervour, their Lesbian blight, their shop-sign vices set up to arouse their clients, to excite the perversity of young and old men alike in the sickness of perverse tastes! All of it can sparkle and catch fire only at the hour when the gas is lit in the corridors of the music-halls and the crude nickel-plated decor of the bars. Beneath the cerise three-ply collars of the night-prowlers, as beneath the bulging silks of the cyclist, the whole seductive display of passionate pallor, of knowing depravity, of exhausted and sensual anaemia - all the charm of spicy flowers celebrated in the writings of Paul Bourget and Maurice Barres - is nothing but a role carefully learned and rehearsed a hundred times over. It is a chapter of the MANCHON DE FRANCINE read over and over again, swotted up and acted out by ingenious barnstormers, fully conscious of the squalid salacity of the male of the species, and knowledgeable in the means of starting up the broken-down engines of their customers. To think that I also have loved these maleficent and sick little beasts, these fake Primaveras, these discounted Jocondes, the whole hundred-franc stock-in-trade of Leonardos and Botticellis from the workshops of painters and the drinking-dens of aesthetes, these flowers mounted on a brass thread in Montparnasse and Levallois-Perret! And the odious and tiresome travesty - the corsetted torso slapped on top of heron's legs, painful to behold, the ugly features primed by boulevard boxes, the fake Dresden of Nina Grandiere retouched from a medicine bottle, complaining and spectral at the same time - of Mademoiselle Guilbert and her long black gloves!... Have I now had enough of the horror of this nightmare! How have I been able to tolerate it for so long? The fact is that I was then ignorant even of the nature of my sickness. It was latent in me, like a fire smouldering beneath the ashes. I have cherished it since... perhaps since early childhood, for it must always have been in me, although I did not know it!”

SexHorrorWomanNightmareRottenCocaineLesbianDecadenceDepravityVicePerversityAlcoholicMacabreMorphineDecadentDecadentsEtherMontmartreFervourPallorStreet WalkersAndrogyneAndrogynesChorus GirlsLevallois PerretMaurice BarresPaul Bourget
Book:Monsieur de Phocas
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“... she exclaimed, the innate respectability of the middle-class housewife rising impulsively to the surface through the acquired dilettantism of the 'light woman.' People who enjoyed 'picking-up' things, who admired poetry, despised sordid calculations of profit and loss, and nourished ideals of honour and love, she placed in a class by themselves, superior to the rest of humanity.”

HumanitySocietyWomanMiddle Class
Book:Swann’s Way
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“What is a whore?" Unsurprisingly, that hadn't been one of the words we had shared over the last span of days. For half a moment I considered lying, but there was no way I could manage it. "He says your mother is a person men pay money to have sex with." Tempi turned back to the mercenary and nodded graciously. "You are very kind. I thank you.”

MotherSexMoneyPayAngrySurpriseResponseWomanInsultUnexpectedFightTranslateComebackMercenaryThankProstituteWhoreInterpretReplyPropositionInstigate
Book:The Wise Man's Fear
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“I WANT her though, to take the same from me. She touches me as if I were herself, her own. She has not realized yet, that fearful thing, that I am the other, she thinks we are all of one piece. It is painfully untrue. I want her to touch me at last, ah, on the root and quick of my darkness and perish on me, as I have perished on her. Then, we shall be two and distinct, we shall have each our separate being. And that will be pure existence, real liberty. Till then, we are confused, a mixture, unresolved, unextricated one from the other. It is in pure, unutterable resolvedness, distinction of being, that one is free, not in mixing, merging, not in similarity. When she has put her hand on my secret, darkest sources, the darkest outgoings, when it has struck home to her, like a death, "this is _him!_" she has no part in it, no part whatever, it is the terrible _other_, when she knows the fearful _other flesh_, ah, dark- ness unfathomable and fearful, contiguous and concrete, when she is slain against me, and lies in a heap like one outside the house, when she passes away as I have passed away being pressed up against the _other_, then I shall be glad, I shall not be confused with her, I shall be cleared, distinct, single as if burnished in silver, having no adherence, no adhesion anywhere, one clear, burnished, isolated being, unique, and she also, pure, isolated, complete, two of us, unutterably distinguished, and in unutterable conjunction. Then we shall be free, freer than angels, ah, perfect. VIII AFTER that, there will only remain that all men detach themselves and become unique, that we are all detached, moving in freedom more than the angels, conditioned only by our own pure single being, having no laws but the laws of our own being. Every human being will then be like a flower, untrammelled. Every movement will be direct. Only to be will be such delight, we cover our faces when we think of it lest our faces betray us to some untimely fiend. Every man himself, and therefore, a surpassing singleness of mankind. The blazing tiger will spring upon the deer, un-dimmed, the hen will nestle over her chickens, we shall love, we shall hate, but it will be like music, sheer utterance, issuing straight out of the unknown, the lightning and the rainbow appearing in us unbidden, unchecked, like ambassadors. We shall not look before and after. We shall _be_, _now_. We shall know in full. We, the mystic NOW. (From the poem the Manifesto)”

LoveWomanManifestoLawrence
Author:D.H. Lawrence
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