Women can enter into friendship with a man perfectly well; but in order to maintain it the aid of a little physical antipathy is perhaps required.
What freedom men and women could have, were they not constantly tricked and trapped and enslaved and tortured by their sexuality! The only drawback in that freedom is that without it one would not be a human. One would be a monster.
A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.
Women will not suffer their idol to step down from his pedestal. They do not forgive the slightest pettiness in a god.
Women who don’t marry wither up — they wither up like aspidistras in back-parlour windows; and the devilish thing is that they don’t even know that they’re withering.
Women understand better than we do the art of analyzing the two human feelings, which alternately form their weapons of attack, or the weapons of which they are victims. They have the instinct of love, because it is their whole life, and of jealousy, because it is almost the only means by which they can control us.
Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.
Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.
Women do have an affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, but that some men are too innocent to protect themselves.