Men do not like tomboys, nor bluestockings, nor thinking women; too much audacity, culture, intelligence, or character frightens them.
Her wings are cut, and then she is blamed for not knowing how to fly.
What would Prince Charming do if he did not wake up Sleeping Beauty, or lavish gifts on Donkey Skin?
We will not let ourselves be intimidated by the number and violence of attacks against women; nor be fooled by the self-serving praise showered on the “real woman”; nor be won over by men’s enthusiasm for her destiny, a destiny they would not for the world want to share.
To lose confidence in one’s body is to lose confidence in one’s self.
There is an art to “catching a husband”: “keeping” him is a profession.
The word “love” has not at all the same meaning for both sexes, and this is a source of the grave misunderstandings that separate them.
The most mediocre of males believes himself a demigod next to women.
The day when it will be possible for the woman to love in her strength and not in her weakness, not to escape from herself but to find herself, not out of resignation but to affirm herself, love will become for her as for man the source of life and not a mortal danger.
Sexual pleasure for her, we have said, is a kind of spell; it demands total abandon; if words or gestures contest the magic of caresses, the spell vanishes.
Women’s mutual understanding lies in the fact that they identify with each other: but then each one competes with her companion.
Without doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.