Perhaps women have always been in closer contact with reality than men: it would seem to be the just recompense for being deprived of idealism.
Women have very little idea of how much men hate them.
Sadness is the matrix from which wit and irony spring; sadness is uncomfortable and creative, which is why consumer society cannot tolerate it.
Security is the denial of life.
Gillard is as likeable as Rudd is charmless. She is self-deprecating; he is ludicrously vainglorious. She is a mistress of understatement; he is a ranter.
Many a housewife staring at the back of her husband’s newspaper, or listening to his breathing in bed is lonelier than any spinster in a rented room.
I didn’t fight to get women out from behind vacuum cleaners to get them onto the board of Hoover.
One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.
Is it too much to ask that women be spared the daily struggle for superhuman beauty in order to offer it to the caresses of a subhumanly ugly mate?
What we ought to see in the agonies of puberty is the result of the conditioning that maims the female personality in creating the feminine.
It strikes me as very strange that whereas Tennyson could support most of Mr. Buckley’s propositions about free trade, and the private sector, and private enterprise, Tennyson found no difficulty also in lending intellectual support to the idea of Women’s Liberation.
It’s absolutely philistine not to recognize what a great book ‘An American Dream’ is. Norman Mailer is his own worst enemy, and if you don’t catch him in a defensive position, he’ll admit it. I’d really like to help that man.
Only one thing is certain: if pot is legalized, it won’t be for our benefit but for the authorities. To have it legalized will also be to lose control of it.
Until women themselves reject stigma and refuse to feel shame for the way others treat them, they have no hope of achieving full human stature.
The sight of women talking together has always made men uneasy; nowadays it means rank subversion.
Perhaps catastrophe is the natural human environment, and even though we spend a good deal of energy trying to get away from it, we are programmed for survival amid catastrophe.
The compelled mother loves her child as the caged bird sings. The song does not justify the cage nor the love the enforcement.
Supergroupies don’t have to hang around hotel corridors. When you are one, as I have been, you get invited backstage.
Freud is the father of psychoanalysis. It had no mother.
It is agreed that little girls should have a different physical education than little boys, but it is not admitted how much of the difference is counseled by the conviction that little girls should not look like little boys.