Quotes About Women

She is one of God's women fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.

Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.

My Life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have not had much time for friendships...I have known so many good people and seen such nobility that I feel more than ever-and it has grown with my advancing years-the lonliness of my life. Believe, me, then, that I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope-hope, not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left to make life happy. Dr Van Helsing to Mia Seward.

She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an egoist- and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so skeptical and selfish.

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked.

The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their

Such preponderance of women workers resulted all too often in the invisibility of the cotton industry, overshadowed by the male-dominated coal-mining, iron-making, and railroading industries.

Like I said, I've got too much respect for women to marry them, but that doesn't mean you can't support them emotionally and financially.

I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices, written 1962

I don't see what women see in other women, I told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man? Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, Tenderness. That shut me up.

This hotel-the Amazon- was for women only, and they were mostly girls my age with wealthy parents who wanted to be sure their daughters would be living where men couldn't get at them and deceive them.

The main point of the article was that a man's world is different from a women's world and a man's emotions are different from a women's emotions and only marriage can bring the two worlds and the two different sets of emotions together properly.

Winter is for women — The woman, still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think. Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas Succeed in banking their fires To enter another year? What will they taste of, the Christmas roses? The bees are flying. They taste the spring. — Sylvia Plath, from "Wintering," Ariel . (Harper & Row 1966)

I remembered a worrisome course in the Victorian novel where woman after woman died, palely and nobly, in torrents of blood, after a difficult childbirth.

Comecei a entender como os misóginos conseguiam fazer as mulheres de bobas. Eles eram como deuses: invulneráveis e poderosos. Eles desciam à terra e desapareciam. Era impossível colocar as mãos neles.

I don't see what women see in other women,' I'd told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. 'What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?' Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, 'Tenderness.' That shut me up.

Why am I obsessed with the idea I can justify myself by getting manuscripts published? Is it an escape-an excuse for any social failure-so I can say No, I don't go out for many extracurricular activities, but I spend a lot of time writing. Or is it an excuse for wanting to be alone and meditate alone, not having to brave a group of women? (Women in numbers has always disturbed me.)

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve. On their blotter of fog the trees Seem a botanical drawing. Memories growing, ring on ring, A series of weddings. Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery, Truer than women, They seed so effortlessly! Tasting the winds, that are footless, Waist-deep in history. Full of wings, otherworldliness. In this, they are Ledas. O mother of leaves and sweetness Who are these pietas? The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.

The only quiet woman is a dead one

I am moved by fancies that are curled Around these images, and cling: The notion of some infinitely gentle Infinitely suffering thing. Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh; The worlds revolve like ancient women Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

The world revolves like ancient women, gathering fuel in vacant lots.

Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh; The worlds revolve like ancient women Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo

Yes, there were thousands of women like them. Yes, they were Muslims. No, they did not think Allah would punish them. No, she was not afraid of what Daesh might do. Yes, that is what she would call them—Daesh—whether they liked it or not. Wasn't she afraid of the violence men can do to woman? Yes, she was—where is the woman who isn't—but what sort of man, who takes the name of God, would even speak of such things?