While love ceaselessly strives toward that which lies at the hiddenmost center, hatred only perceives the topmost surface and perc...eives it so exclusively that the devil of hatred, despite all his terror-inspiring cruelty, never is entirely free of ridicule and of a somewhat dilettantish aspect. One who hates is a man holding a magnifying-glass, and when he hates someone, he knows precisely that person's surface, from the soles of his feet all the way up to each hair on the hated head. Were one merely to seek information, one should inquire of the man who hates, but if one wishes to know what truly is, one better ask the one who loves.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
When you're alone in the middle of the night and you wake in a sweat and a hell of a fright When you're alone in the middle ...of the bed and you wake like someone hit you in the head You've had a cream of a nightmare dream and you've got the hoo-ha's coming to you.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Maybe I couldn't make it. Maybe I don't have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky arse, a sexy voice. Maybe ...I don't know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I'm sick of the masquerade. I'm sick of pretending eternal youth. I'm sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I'm sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I'm sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I'm sick of the Powder Room. I'm sick of pretending that some fatuous male's self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I'm sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I'm sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There would have to be something wrong with someone who could throw out a child's first Valentine card saying, "I love you, Mommy...."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
but you are not deaf, you pick out... your own song from the uproar line by line, and at last throw back your head and sing it.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
...I wasn't at all prepared for the avalanche of criticism that overwhelmed me. You would have thought I had murdered someone, and... perhaps I had, but only to give her successor a chance to live. It was a very sad business indeed to be made to feel that my success depended solely, or at least in large part, on a head of hair.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Little has been written about the role of the jane, as I prefer to call the female john, in the life of the contemporary career wo...man.... In some ways it has replaced the old consciousness-raising group as a setting for the free exchange of ideas about men, work, children, personal development, and the ridiculous price of pantyhose. In most offices, it is one of the few spots in which a woman employee can pause, throw back her head, and say, loudly, "Men are so stupid sometimes I want to shoot all of them."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »