It goes far to reconciling me to being a woman when I reflect that I am thus in no danger of ever marrying one.—Lady Montague.
Men are women's playthings; woman is the devil's.—Victor Hugo.
Sing of the nature of woman, and the song shall be surely full of variety,—old crotchets and most sweet closes,—it shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly,—one in all, and all in one!—Beaumont.
Her step is music and her voice is song.—Bailey.
Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.—Michelet.
Woman, sister! there are some things which you do not execute as well as your brother, man; no, nor ever will. Pardon me, if I doubt whether you will ever produce a great poet from your choirs, or a Mozart, or a Phidias, or a Michael Angelo, or a great philosopher, or a great scholar. By which last is meant, not one who depends simply on an infinite memory, but also on an infinite and electrical power of combination; bringing together from the four winds, like the angel of the resurrection, what else were dust from dead men's bones, into the unity of breathing life. If you can create yourselves into any of these grand creators, why have you not?—De Quincey.
There are three things a wise man will not trust: the wind, the sunshine of an April day, and woman's plighted faith.—Southey.
Woman is mistress of the art of completely embittering the life of the person on whom she depends.—Goethe.
Women generally consider consequences in love, seldom in resentment.—Colton.
Just corporeal enough to attest humanity, yet sufficiently transparent to let the celestial origin shine through.—Ruffini.