“Let me run game, talk is cheap, so let me take aim. Actions without distraction, simple conversations mean more to you than diamonds and the mansions, Haa, let me stop. Go ahead & run some game of your own; Feed my inner animal with your voice, your gestures, your walk. Those glances, all so intentional. Filling my senses like you got all the sense in this.”
“Giving birth is definitely a heroic deed, in that it is the giving over of oneself to the life of another.”
“Red velvet, that s the color of her dress. Red velvet cake, that s the taste of her breasts. Stimulate her mind, I m so mean with this mess. If I told you I m the best of the best, feel that passion in your heart, that s the pain in your chest. Better than the rest, lay to rest the exes that didn t pass on that test. That s real, that s real. Motivate her soul, that s something they couldn t do. Make her fall in love with the word play, now she callin me boo. Wow, what a beautiful start with such a cold beginning. Let this fire last like everyday is a new ending. Set her mind up for the greatest of the great, lay to rest her crown on her head like it s intentional fate. Let her benefit from these benefits, drive her drive like ain t no breaks in this bitch. Even if I was poor or if I was rich, I stimulate her soul like it s a fire in this bitch. She ain t going no where, I m the best with this trend. Influence her mind, body and spirit, ain t no seeing the end.”
“Everybody was a hero. Hadn t we all joined together to kick the hell out of de Gruber, and that fat Italian, and put that little rice-eating Tojo in his place? Black men from the South who had held no tools more complicated than plows had learned to use lathes and borers and welding guns, and had brought in their quotas of war-making machines. Women who had only known maid s uniforms and mammy-made dresses donned the awkward men s pants and steel helmets, and made the ship-fitting sheds hum some buddy. Even the children had collected paper, and at the advice of elders who remembered World War I, balled the tin foil from cigarettes and chewing gum into balls as big as your head. Oh, it was a time.”
“A woman become robustious when she decides to demolish her own demon that has been shattered her all this time.”
“Most of the happy men do not have women in their lives...”
“Bless those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest.”
“Stories are often told by men with little else to do, and spred by women who love the sound of their own voices.”
“The deeply irrational attitude of each sex toward women may be seen in novels, particularly in bad novels. In bad novels by men, there is the woman with whom the author is in love, who usually possesses every charm, but is somewhat helpless, and requires male protection; sometimes, however, like Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, she is an object of exasperated hatred, and is thought to be deeply and desperately wicked. In portraying the heroine, the male author does not write from observation, but merely objectifies his own emotions. In regard to his other female characters, he is more objective, and may even depend upon his notebook; but when he is in love, his passion makes a mist between him and the object of his devotion. Women novelists, also, have two kinds of women in their books. One is themselves, glamorous and kind, and object of lust to the wicked and of love to the good, sensitive, highsouled, and constantly misjudged. The other kind is represented by all other women, and is usually portrayed as petty, spiteful, cruel, and deceitful. It would seem that to judge women without bias is not easy either for men or for women.”
“We weren’t born distrusting and fearing ourselves. That was part of our taming. We were taught to believe that who we are in our natural state is bad and dangerous. They convinced us to be afraid of ourselves. So we do not honor our own bodies, curiosity, hunger, judgment, experience, or ambition. Instead, we lock away our true selves. Women who are best at this disappearing act earn the highest praise: She is so selfless. Can you imagine? The epitome of womanhood is to lose one’s self completely. That is the end goal of every patriarchal culture. Because a very effective way to control women is to convince women to control themselves.”
“We have a saying in my country that a beautiful woman deserves love. (...) Ugly women do not? asked the queen as if genuinely curious.”