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Where love is absent, there can be no woman.

Because I am a woman, I must make unusual efforts to succeed. If I fail, no one will say, ˜She doesn't have what it takes.' They will say, ˜Women don't have what it takes.

I prefer to regard a dessert as I would imagine the perfect woman: subtle, a little bittersweet, not blowsy and extrovert. Delicately made up, not highly rouged. Holding back, not exposing everything and, of course, with a flavor that lasts.

I was just looking at the jukebox. Just playing records. She said, "You want to play with me?" I said, "Sure. How much?" She says, "Five bucks, two dollars for the room." "Was it nice, Jack?" "All women are nice."

Had I been a man, I might have explored the Poles or climbed Mount Everest, but as it was, my spirit found outlet in the air.

Women do not always have to write about women, or gay men about gay men. Indeed, something good and new might happen if they did not.

Women need not always keep their mouths shut and their wombs open.

The original necessity for the ceaseless presence of the woman to maintain the altar fire--and it was an altar fire in very truth at one period--has passed with the means of prompt ignition; the matchbox has freed the housewife from that incessant service, but the feeling that women should stay at home is with us yet.

A house does not need a wife any more than it needs a husband.

Woman is the companion of man, gifted with equal mental capacity.

There is no occasion for women to consider themselves subordinate or inferior to men.