Quotes About Masculinity

Say thank you to her, Dolophonos. She just kept you from getting your ass handed to you. (Jericho) Stop it! One more round of Grand Testosterone and I swear I'll geld you both where you stand. (Delphine)

If you want nice, baby, play with your fucking dog. When you're ready to play with a man, then call me. (Zarek)

I'm not the sort of bloke who spends a long time in the bathroom. I've never used a face cream in my life and I don't like it when I go on TV and they offer me make-up. I tell 'em, 'No thanks.'

Like most men, I'm a life support system for a phallus.

Some male vegetarians have described how their rejection of meat felt emasculating, since they were also rejecting the ancient male role of killer and griller. Vegetarians frequently try to counteract this feminine connotation by touting all the manly men who are vegetarian (Mike Tyson!). One article even profiled a few masculine kale-loving "hegans." At the very least, the protestations to the contrary show that the perception exists.

I wasn't mean; I wasn't evil. I was nice. And let me tell you, a hesitant man is the last thing in the world a woman needs. She needs a lover and a warrior, not a Really Nice Guy.

A man needs a much bigger orbit than a woman. He needs a mission, a life purpose, and he needs to know his name. Only then is he fit for a woman, for only then does he have something to invite her into.

There's nothing honerable in a man who hides behind a blue woman's hanky.

What I understand," he said, "is that there is very little about you that is excellent and that Aseikh is a term of honor. There's nothing honorable in a man who hides his face behind a blue woman's hanky.

The power of women! I've never felt so full of mysterious power. Men are a joke. We're so weak physically, so helpless with things. Still, even today. But we're stronger than they are. We can stand their cruelty. They can't stand ours.

There is never a penis that is as comfortable hard as it is soft in a pair of jeans.

Not to be needed is a slow death for a man.

A tailored and pleated version of men's striped trousers flapped around her long legs and pinched in tightly at her waist – a black silk shirt, complete with silver cufflinks, rippled from broad shoulders across a small bosom. A single strand of pearls at the the throat. This was hardly a gesture to femininity, for the whole appearance contrived femininity in irony.

He looks like he spends his day crushing warriors under the shield of Aeneas. Muscles band his arms and neck. Thick, lustrous hair falls in blue-black waves along his cheeks, his eyes a speckled tan, nestled deep. His olive skin is smooth and unmarred, except where thick stubble shades his jawline. Even his stubble looks like it could take me in a fight.

There is nothing more galling than for a stupid man to be lording it over us women merely because of his masculinity. Let him stew. It will not be he who solves this puzzle, be sure.

The man, most man, Works best for men: and, if most man indeed, He gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

Stud males might be emotional, temperamental, and developmentally stunted, at the mercy of their androgens, but that didn't make them incapable of generosity, friendship, cleverness, or creativity.

Without women in a position to protect them, gentle males would find it rough going in a society dominated by stud males and hormonally driven aggression.

He held himself right, collected, confident, but without the swaggering she was used to seeing on successful males. As if he didn't feel the need to constantly claim his space and assent his presence.

I would back away growling. Wer I not a man. Or the masquerade of one.

His breath smelled faintly of blood, as from a bitten cheek. His handshake was quite firm, masculine, but not so the delicate squeeze before he disengaged. Meant to be shocking-or alluring-but Sebastien was too old to be shocked and he had already been allured. After a fashion.

She was not accustomed to finding someone with such obvious male attributes attractive. But the eyes and the throat and the breasts were all woman, if the long hands and torso and crotch were all wrong.

He's so bad he can be sweet as ice cream every second and nobody forgets for any one of those seconds that he's the baddest man in the room. That's what I like. Men who could beat up my dad. They make me feel safe.

Is a man less of a man, because he's learned to hold his tongue?