Life Is Only Lived Full-time By Women

We, Her Children, Are Heroic, Dersperate.

She Represents The Un-vowed Aspiration Of The Male Human Being, His Potential Infidelity - And Infidelity Of A Very Special Kind, Which Would Lead Him To The Opposite Of His Wife, To The Woman Of Wax Whom He Could Model At Will, Make And Unmake In Any Way He Wished, Even Unto Death.

I Know It's Not Clothes That Make Women Beautiful Or Otherwise, Nor Beauty Care, Nor Expensive Creams, Nor The Distinction Of Costliness Of Their Finery. I Know The Problem Lies Elsewhere. I Don't Know Where. I Only Know It Isn't Where Women Think.

Before They're Plumbers Or Writers Or Taxi Drivers Or Unemployed Or Journalists, Before Everything Else, Men Are Men. Whether Heterosexual Or Homosexual. The Only Difference Is That Some Of Them Remind You Of It As Soon As You Meet Them, And Others Wait For A Little While.

A Woman's Work, From The Time She Gets Up To The Time She Goes To Bed, Is As Hard As A Day At War, Worse Than A Man's Working Day. ... To Men, Women's Work Was Like The Rain-bringing Clouds, Or The Rain Itself. The Task Involved Was Carried Out Every Day As Regularly As Sleep. So Men Were Happy - Men In The Middle Ages, Men At The Time Of The Revolution, And Men In 1986: Everything In The Garden Was Lovely.