Learn this now and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always. You remember that, Mariam.
A woman who will be like a rock in a riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washes over her.
Where there is neither love nor hatred in the game, woman’s play is mediocre.[Wo nicht Liebe oder Hass mitspielt, spielt das Weib mittelmässig.]
Twenty years of romance make a woman look like a ruin; but twenty years of marriage make her something like a public building.
The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.[Zweierlei will der ächte Mann: Gefahr und Spiel. Desshalb will er das Weib, als das gefährlichste Spielzeug.]
The narcissistic, the domineering, the possessive woman can succeed in being a “loving” mother as long as the child is small. Only the really loving woman, the woman who is happier in giving than in taking, who is firmly rooted in her own existence, can be a loving mother when the child is in the process of separation.
Talk to every woman as if you loved her, and to every man as if he bored you, and at the end of your first season you will have the reputation of possessing the most perfect social tact.