Quotes About Femininity

To fit oneself into the smallest spaces in the hopes of being loved -that is entirely womanly

Maybe I feel betrayed by the woman inside of me who can't bring herself to do this thing. Or maybe I feel betrayed by my mother, for not devoting herself to me and creating whatever loving memories must be created in a child to make her want to repeat the process again.

The most compelling women are the ones who are distinctive, who are most like themselves and least like other women.

Do I want children because I want to be admired as the admirable sort of woman who has children? Because I want to be seen as a normal sort of woman, or because I want to be the best kind of woman, a woman with not only work, but the desire and ability to nurture, a body that can make babies, and someone who another person wants to make babies with? Do I want a child to show myself to be the (normal) sort of woman who wants and ultimately has a child?

Masculinity cannot exist without femininity. On its own, masculinity has no meaning, because it is but one half of a set of power relations. Masculinity pertains to male dominance as femininity pertains to female subordination.

Masculinity is part of a binary and requires its opposite, since, in the absence of femininity, masculinity would have no meaning.

It has occured to Charlotte that men are full of petulant nonsense,and that their supposed strength is rather less than a girl's.

She was full of sultry grace With her heavy, red lips and her soft, dark curls.

If the life source is female, then we as women partake of Her divinity. When that divinity is named and envisaged only in male terms, where does that leave women? On the outside, looking in. We women need our own expressions of deity, our own female explanations for the way of things.

We are the Daughters of the Moon We are the Sisters of the Sun We are the Mothers of the Earth We are Women, we are One.

Women never have young minds. They are born three thousand years old.

If a woman were about to proceed to her execution, she would demand a little time to perfect her toilet.

As I grow older I spend more time with my wife, and gradually my interest in the woman's world is growing.

I'd learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn't think of a single thing cooler than that.

For the record: I wear makeup. All. The. Time. But I do it in a way that looks natural.

I was a tomboy and any time anyone says something about me being hot, it makes me giggle.

She [Evelina] is not, indeed, like most modern young ladies; to be known in half an hour; her modest worth, and fearful excellence, require both time and encouragement to show themselves.

Put on some lipstick and pull yourself together.

I keep lip gloss everywhere. It always makes me feel like I am slightly put together.

I want to show off how beautiful my subjects are, whether its a cheetah or a live girl or two of them together.

He wanted her. He did not say so, but the evidence was there for her, and it was indisputable. He wanted her. And she wanted him, with an ache that drugged her mind again. It had been so long. So very long. And it had never been exciting. Never anything but briefly and mildly pleasurable. But she ached to be possessed again, to feel her femininity affirmed again. And with him. With him it would be good. Very good.

Philippa knew why her mother had kept everything bottled up inside. It was the innate compulsion some people—particularly women?—felt not to make a fuss, not to display their suffering and humiliation to the whole world or even to those who are nearest and dearest to them.

Women like to be pursued. Women like occasionally to be caught without their chaperones. Now go to her.

She would not show her personality, and even if she did, nobody would see it; they would be too distracted by the thought of a mechanical cunt, endlessly absorbing discharge.