battle-of-the-sexes

When it comes to men, I appreciate them, don__ bash them and never love them.

I__ love to have the kind of friend who would visit me before visiting a man. Otherwise I know where I__ ranked, which is below him.

Ten thousand women marched through the streets shouting, 'We will not be dictated to,' and went off and became stenographers.

There are as many violent women as men, but there's a lot of money in hating men, particularly in the United States -- millions of dollars. It isn't a politically good idea to threaten the huge budgets for women's refuges by saying that some of the women who go into them aren't total victims.

After the gratifications of brutish appetites are past, the greatest pleasure then is to get rid of that which entertained it.

The way Mom saw it, women should let menfolk do the work because it made them feel more manly. That notion only made sense if you had a strong man willing to step up and get things done, and between Dad's gimp, Buster's elaborate excuses, and Apache's tendency to disappear, it was often up to me to keep the place from falling apart. But even when everyone was pitching in, we never got out from under all the work. I loved that ranch, though sometimes it did seem that instead of us owning the place, the place owned us.

Nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes. There is too much fraternizing with the enemy.

Some men are so indoctrinated that they sincerely believe that other than cooking and cleaning the only thing that a woman can do better than them is being a woman.

One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.

I see the beginning, I see the end. And in the middle I just hope I don't fall on my ass to much

She sat there reading; cool, calm and collected. "You could ruin his life with that information," her friend reported triumphantly. The woman sighed, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "If I did he would never forget me," she replied. "Besides...I don't care enough about his life to concern myself with what he does with it as long as he doesn't concern himself with thoughts of me." Her friend furrowed her brows. "Why?" she asked. The woman set her book down, leaned forward provocatively and said, "Because then I'd have to think of him too.

Today the same thing over. I've got it up the tree again.