Quotes About Stereotypes

The women I knew in those days liked the fact that I had a feminine streak, that I seemed to be sensitive and caring, that I didn't know the names of any NFL teams, that I could make a nice risotto. A lot of straight women love a female sensibility in a man, an enthusiasm that goes right up to, but unfortunately does not quite include, his being an actual woman.

Straight women love a feminine sensibility in a man, but that love only goes up to, and unfortunately does not quite pass, the fact of his being an actual woman.

If you happen to be a woman, all problems are female problems.

So the dickhead had a name. Daemon—seemed fitting. And of course his sister would be as attractive as him. Why not? Welcome to West Virginia, the land of lost models.

A world without men would consists of a bunch of fat, happy women with no crime.

So their cheerleaders are ugly, their football players are wimps, and they're our archrivals because why?

You're not the type to natter, are you?" David Ames said in response to my silence. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Kind of a sexist way to describe someone talking." He blinked. "You wouldn't describe your grandsons as nattering," I elaborated.

If I were a boy," Thea told him with a Southern belle smile, "people would just call me driven." "Thea." Constantine frowned at her. "Right." Thea dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "No feminism at the dinner table.

We are like books. Most people only see our cover, the minority read only the introduction, many people believe the critics. Few will know our content.

Prejudice in this country is like chapters in a book. Chapter One: Hating the Africans and Indians. Chapter Two: Don't forget the Irish. Chapter Three: Polish jokes...... Hispanics? Latinos? Whatever you call us? Maybe we're Chapter Fifteen or Sixteen on the East Coast, but we're the preface in the West.

Every men are born with the empty space where have to be brains. Need smart woman to fill this emtyness. Sorry, it might be bad translation. but I did my best ;) So, what do think about it?

Like Wollstonecraft, Austen rejects the notion that 'man was made to reason, woman to feel.' Perhaps Austen was tired of reading passages in conduct books suggesting that young women were innately sensitive, quivering, emotional messes.

Although I'm sure there are plenty of tall, gorgeous, life-of-the-party guys who are also true to their wives, I happen to believe that a disproportionate number of them are cheaters.

A strident female voice causes men's ears to close.

Blanche has already steeled herself, knowing that the Irish can't cook.)

I win, and we discover that when men peer into a car that is blasting True Faith on the outskirts of San Franscisco, they are disappointed to see three women.

There are a lot of hopes riding on you. But there is a lot of prejudice against you too.

his size drew attention from everyone who happened to glance downwards. But Mulch quickly discovered that Mud People could find a reason to distrust almost anyone. Height, weight, skin colour, religion. It was almost safer to be different in some way.

I know what you're thinking, said Root. Why am I picking on you every day? Why don't I ever bawl out those other layabouts? Holly said nothing, but agreement was written all over the face. I'll tell you why, shall I? Holly risked a nod. It's because you're a girl. Holly felt her fingers curl into fists. She knew it!

We don't use the term savage Injun anymore. Some people take issue with being described as savages. Go figure.

If I were a male—one of your precious sprites—we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Now, Benny was no eejit. He wasn't expecting the Tunisian nationals to be Irish. What he did expect was darkish people with Irishy personalities. That was not what he got. The Tunisians weren't interested in conforming to Benny's preconceptions. They stubbornly insisted on being themselves.

There are some nasty bitches out there. If they don't dab the front end, they probably don't wipe the back end. That's women of all colors and races. Guess what? I'm not one. I smell nice at all times.

Preacher pulled her gun to her lap, the trigger aimed toward the stranger. . . . He stared at her like he was ready to dial 911, until he saw she was of European heritage, saw her clerical collar, saw the Bible on the dashboard. White, blond, and Christian. Trifecta. The man's shoulders relaxed and he smiled, waved, and kept going.