Quotes to inspire and reflect

Women can be vivacious. We are allowed more varieties of facial expression and gestures. Men must be rocklike.

[Mjen were valued by what they did, women by how they looked and then by what their husbands did, and all of life was arranged (or so we thought)' from the outside in.

[T]he warfare between the unaroused male and female is constant and ferocious. Each blames the other for his loss of soul.

I have thought that men and women should never come together except in bed. There is the only place where their natural hatred of each other is not so apparent.

Women upset everything. When you let them into your life, you find that the woman is driving at one thing and you’re driving at another.

In their hearts women think that it is men’s business to earn money and theirs to spend it.

There’s something even/ woman wants, and that’s a man to blame.

No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hates a man for being a friend to her.

Woman understands children better than man does, but man is more childlike than woman.

Woman’s life must be wrapped up in a man, and the cleverest woman on earth is the biggest fool with a man.

When a man’s in love, he at once makes a pedestal-of the Ten Commandments and stands on the top of them with his arms akimbo. When a womans in love she doesnt care two straws for Thou Shalt and Thou Shalt Not.

Only he who is man enough will release the woman in woman.

Women become attached to men by the favors they grant them; men are cured by these same favors.

Nowadays beautiful women are counted among the talents of their husbands.

The consequence of a very free commerce between the sexes, and of their living much together, will often terminate in intrigues and gallantry.

Men are the reason that women do not love one another.

The average woman sees only the weak points in a strong man, and the good points in a weak one.

You don’t work no harder than me and yet you expects me to do the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and wash your filthy clothes, too, when I come home.

Strange difference of sex, that time and circumstance, which enlarge the views of most men, narrow the views of women almost invariably.

Man is a wretch without woman; but woman is a monster—and thank Heaven, an almost impossible and hitherto imaginary monster—without man, as her acknowledged principal!

If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, / The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.

The women I have loved I have desired for themselves, but also because I feared myself.

When man and woman die, as poets sung, / His heart’s the last part moves, her last, the tongue.

Men live by forgetting—women live on memories.

The woman who is known only through a man is known wrong.

The innumerable conflicts that set fnen and women against one another come from the fact that neither is prepared to assume all the consequences of this situation which the one has offered and the other accepted.

In memory’s telephoto lens, far objects are magnified.

What’s memory' but the ash / That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?

Our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.

Memory, the priestess, / kills the present / and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.

Reminiscences make one feel so deliciously aged and sad.

It is a curious fact that in bad days we can very vividly recall the good time that is now no more; but that in good days we have only a very cold and imperfect memory of the bad.

Forgetfulness transforms every occurrence into a non-occurrence.

A great memory does not make a philosopher, any more than a dictionary can be called a grammar.

The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.

It is strange how a memory will grow into a wax figure, how the cherub grows suspiciously prettier as its frame darkens with age—strange, strange are the mishaps of memory.

To be able to enjoy one’s past life is to live twice.

A strong memory is commonly coupled with infirm judgment.

Memory is like all other human powers, with which no man can be satisfied who measures them by what he can conceive, or by what he can desire.

It would add much to human happiness, if an art could be taught of forgetting all of which the remembrance is at once useless and afflictive ... that the mind might perform its functions without incumbrance, and the pasLmight no longer encroach upon the present.

Oblivion is the dark page, whereon Memory writes her light-beam characters, and makes them legible; were it all light, nothing could be read there, any more than if it were all darkness.

A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to forget is the true token of greatness.

Any given program wall expand to fill all available memory.

As we grow older, the memories of early life brighten, those of maturity and senescence grow dim and confused.

As a rule, the man who can do all things equally well is a very mediocre individual.

We forget because we must / And not because we will.

I doubt not that in due time, when the arts are brought to perfection, some means will be found to give a sound head to a man who has none at all.

The way to get on in the world is to be neither more nor less wise, neither better nor worse than your neighbours.