Quotes About Independence

Too bad he took a tumble out that window when he was too drunk to know what he was doing, she said, cheerfully callous. It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever let a man near me again.

I always think it's a good sign when a man likes cats. It shows he doesn't feel the need to be in constant control of things.

Why wasn't there an etiquette book for runaway wives?

Oh, the terrible, crushing, breath-stealing burden of people who think they own you!

Their growing up amounted, therefore, to a gradual dimming of the light at her bedroom door, as if they took some radiance with them as they moved away from her. She should have planned for it better, she sometimes thought. She should have made a few friends or joined a club. But she wasn't the type. It wouldn't have consoled her.

Her grandmother laughed. "Oh, hon," she said, "it's never wise to look over your shoulder." "Huh?" "Just run the race on your own, I say. Don't fret about the others." This didn't make sense, for a moment, but then it did. Candle felt as if she'd had some burden lifted from her, and she gave Mercy a grateful smile and Mercy smiled back.

Consider the gene pool," she told him. "This country was settled by dissidents and malcontents and misfits and adventurers. Thorny people. They don't always follow the etiquette.

Of course it seemed strange without Peter, but at least she could stay out as long as she liked without worrying she was neglecting him.

Sometimes Willa felt she'd spent half her life apologizing for some man's behavior. More than half her life, actually. First Derek and then Peter, forever charging ahead while Willa trailed behind picking up the pieces and excusing and explaining.

she had warned Kate not ever to let a man meddle with the housework. "He'll get all carried away with it," she'd said, "and your life won't never be your own after that.

Grilled cheese sandwiches were all he knew how to make. He fried them over high heat and they gave off a sharp, salty smell that Willa had learned to associate with their mother's absences—her sick headaches and her play rehearsals and the times she slammed out of the house.

Independent? Bosh. That's just another word for selfish. It's stiff-backed people like you who end up being the biggest burdens.

You want to be independent?" he asked. He pronounced the word at a distance, somehow, as if he found it distasteful.

Sometimes Willa felt she'd spent half her life apologizing for some man's behavior. More than half her life

just meant I had to get up the next morning and tell Denise, 'Don't fix any breakfast for me; I'm moving out

See this? And this? See me somersault? See me pull my wagon?" His smallness colored every act; he was conscious of a desperate need to learn to manage, to take charge of his surroundings. Waking

If she was easily swayed, she thought, at least she had chosen who would sway her. If she was locked in a pattern, at least she had chosen what that pattern would be. She felt strong and free and definite.

I am a grown woman-- mostly-- and I can guzzle champagne with whomever I choose.

And she's certainly a good cook." Miss Betts sighed. "The epitaph of the spinster.

Having chosen this foolishness, I was a free being. How could the world ever stop me, how could I betray myself, if I was not afraid?

Freedom's easy to lose and hard to get back.

Sometimes I think I'm nothing but what other people have done to me

No one owns the sunset

She would find her answers in the words she wrote, in the stories she told, not by asking for permission.