Quotes About Femininity

Description of yourself walking through Paris and the tips of your breasts taut and tingling. Feeling, as I read your book, that for the first time I was going to know what are a woman's sensations in love . . . Asking myself over and over, does she look at men always with those steady eyes? . . .

Transpira, straluceste. Nu pot s-o ascund. Sunt femeie. Un barbat m-a facut sa ma supun. O, bucuria unei femei cand gaseste un barbat caruia sa i se supuna, bucuria feminitatii ei inflorind in brate puternice!

He deseado poseerla como si un hombre fuera, pero he querido también que me amara con los ojos, con las manos, con los sentidos que sólo poseen las mujeres. Es una penetración suave y sutil.

To retreat is not feminine, male, or trickery. It is a terror before utter destruction.

I have no fear of your femaleness.

I am a child compared to you, because when the womb in you speaks it enfolds everything—it is the darkness I adore.

I can only make notes. With Staff, it is my idealization of myself and others. Behind my masochism lies sadism. Behind my indirectness does not lie femininity, but a crippled, fearful self who does not dare. Behind my idealizations lie a primitive woman, indirect uses of power, subtle forms of destructiveness, this hunger.

I can tell now about the breathing exercises, which at first caused anxiety, sobbing and pain, but which brought release, warmth and sensuality afterwards. There is confusion between femininity and masochism, a real split. The only release I had was sensual, and since it was the only release, I over-emphasized it and became a nymphomaniac.

No one but a woman in love ever sees the maximum of men's greatness.

I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.

Some women are bred from the beginning to be perfect specimens for men

Finalmenti 'ncontrava a 'na fìmmina che, oltri che ad aviri 'n sommo grado tutti l'attributi fimminini, possidiva macari un gran paro di cabasisi.››

When you were a little girl, madam," he said, gesturing to her, "was this the woman you dreamed of becoming?

I always run into strong women who are looking for weak men to dominate them.

I always play women I would date.

who looked like she chewed on jasmines and spat out nails.

For the first time in her life she was proud of her size, proud of her strength, even proud of her oddly boyish face. She could see interest, even admiration in the faces of many of the girls.

she never showed girly weaknesses like cellulite or crushes. she never lingered on injustices committed against her.

She had on black jeans, a black cropped cotton sweater, and soft, scrunchy ankle boots. The color made her blue eyes look dramatic, and her earrings, which were tiny coils of gold braid, finished the outfit.

The next morning I got up, pulled on a pair of blue tights, black canvas walking shorts, a long-sleeved, blue T-shirt, and a pair of black flats. I piled my blonde perm up on top of my head and fastened it with a blue stretchie tie.

What good creatures are we women!

Beware of women in white who look and move and talk like goddesses. Sooner or later there 'll be hell to pay.

After all, a woman didn't leave much behind in the world to show she'd been there. Even the children she bore and raised got their father's name. But her quilts, now that was something she could pass on.

The situation of those men in the hierarchy of gender who avail themselves of female tenderness is not thereby altered: Their superordinate position is neither abandoned, nor their male privilege relinquished. The vulnerability these men exhibit is not a prelude in any way to their loss of male privilege or to an elevation in the status of women.