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Quotation of the day
Friday, 5 September 2008
Daily Quote:
"Discord occasions a momentary distress to the ear, which remains unsatisfied, and even uneasy, until it hears something better." (Burney, Charles - Unity)

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Proverb of the Day
All that glitters is not gold.
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Browse Quotations about Men

A bachelor is a man who comes to work each morning from a different direction.
A hairy body, and arms stiff with bristles, give promise of a manly soul.
A man is in love when something in his head, something in his and chest and something in his pants react to a certain woman.
A man that is ashamed of passions that are natural and reasonable is generally proud of those that are shameful and silly.
A true man hates no one.
A woman simply is, but a man must become. Masculinity is risky and elusive. It is achieved by a revolt from woman, and it is confirmed only by other men. Manhood coerced into sensitivity is no manhood at all.
All men are homosexual, some turn straight. It must be very odd to be a straight man because your sexuality is hopelessly defensive. It's like an ideal of racial purity.
All men are two meters tall... give or take a meter.
All societies on the verge of death are masculine. A society can survive with only one man; no society will survive a shortage of women.
As long as male behavior is taken to be the norm, there can be no serious questioning of male traits and behavior. A norm is by definition a standard for judging; it is not itself subject to judgment.
Because it is in the nature of things that they become extreme, we have passed down from manliness to cruelty. If I had been told when I was 20 that there was a tavern in the town where the brave and the cruel were gathered together, I would have run all the way and I would have gone up to the largest and leatheriest of the denizens and said: If you truly love me, kill the bartender.
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.
Bloody men are like bloody buses -- you wait for about a year and as soon as one approaches your stop two or three others appear.
Considering the absence of legal coercion, the surprising thing is that men have for so long, and, on the whole, so reliably, adhered to what we might call the breadwinner ethic.
Don't accept rides from strange men, and remember that all men are as strange as hell.
During the feminist seventies men were caught between a rock and a hard-on; in the fathering eighties they are caught between good hugs and bad hugs.
He may have hair upon his chest but, sister, so has Lassie.
How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.
How dwarfed against his manliness she sees the poor pretension, the wants, the aims, the follies, born of fashion and convention!
I go for two kinds of men. The kind with muscles, and the kind without.
I love the male body, it's better designed than the male mind.
I mean to make myself a man, and if I succeed in that, I shall succeed in everything else.
I only like two kinds of men; domestic and foreign.
I require three things in a man. He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.
I think we're a kind of desperation. We're sort of a maddening luxury. The basic and essential human is the woman, and all that we're doing is trying to brighten up the place. That's why all the birds who belong to our sex have prettier feathers -- because males have got to try and justify their existence.
I'm not the man to balk at a low smell, I not the man to insist on asphodel. This sounds like a He-fellow, don't you think? It sounds like that. I belch, I bawl, I drink.
If it's true that men are such beasts, this must account for the fact that most women are animal lovers.
In the United States adherence to the values of the masculine mystique makes intimate, self-revealing, deep friendships between men unusual.
In this society, the norm of masculinity is phallic aggression. Male sexuality is, by definition, intensely and rigidly phallic. A man's identity is located in his conception of himself as the possessor of a phallus; a man's worth is located in his pride in phallic identity. The main characteristic of phallic identity is that worth is entirely contingent on the possession of a phallus. Since men have no other criteria for worth, no other notion of identity, those who do not have phalluses are not recognized as fully human.
It is a man's world, and you men can have it.
It is easier to know men in general, than men in particular.
It is funny the two things most men are proudest of is the thing that any man can do and doing does in the same way, that is being drunk and being the father of their son.
It is much more easy to accuse the one sex than to excuse the other.
Left to itself the masculine imagination has very little appreciation for the here and now; it prefers to dwell on what is absent, on what has been or may be. If men are more punctual than women, it is because they know that, without the external discipline of clock time, they would never get anything done.
Macho doesn't prove mucho.
Man is not the enemy here, but the fellow victim.
Man is the only animal of which I am thoroughly and cravenly afraid of.
Masculinity is not something given to you, but something you gain. And you gain it by winning small battles with honor.
Men always talk about the most important things to perfect strangers. In the perfect stranger we perceive man himself; the image of a God is not disguised by resemblances to an uncle or doubts of wisdom of a mustache.
Men are creatures with eight hands.
Men are happy to be laughed at for their humor, but not for their folly.
Men are like sheep, of which a flock is more easily driven than a single one.
Men are nicotine soaked, beer besmirched, whiskey greased, red-eyed devils.
Men are not to be told anything they might find too painful; the secret depths of human nature, the sordid physicalities, might overwhelm or damage them. For instance, men often faint at the sight of their own blood, to which they are not accustomed. For this reason you should never stand behind one in the line at the Red Cross donor clinic.
Men are the dreams of a shadow.
-- Pindar | Men
Men are the enemies of women. Promising sublime intimacy, unequalled passion, amazing security and grace, they nevertheless exploit and injure in a myriad subtle ways. Without men the world would be a better place: softer, kinder, more loving; calmer, quieter, more humane.
Men are what their mothers made them.
Men aren't necessities. They're luxuries.
-- Cher | Men
Men aren't the way they are because they want to drive women crazy; they've been trained to be that way for thousands of years. And that training makes it very difficult for men to be intimate.
Men cease to interest us when we find their limitations.
Men dream of courtship, but in wedlock wake.
Men in general are quick to believe that which they wish to be true.
Men know they are sexual exiles. They wander the earth seeking satisfaction, craving and despising, never content. There is nothing in that anguished motion for women to envy.
Men were only made into men with great difficulty even in primitive society: the male is not naturally a man any more than the woman. He has to be propped up into that position with some ingenuity, and is always likely to collapse.
Men's men: gentle or simple, they're much of a muchness.
Men's private self-worlds are rather like our geographical world's seasons, storm, and sun, deserts, oases, mountains and abysses, the endless-seeming plateaus, darkness and light, and always the sowing and the reaping.
Men's second childhood begins when a woman gets a hold of him.
Most men act so tough and strong on the outside because on the inside, we are scared, weak, and fragile. Men, not women, are the weaker sex.
Next to the striking of fire and the discovery of the wheel, the greatest triumph of what we call civilization was the domestication of the human male.
No man flatters the woman he truly loves.
Not only is it harder to be a man, it is also harder to become one.
One of the things being in politics has taught me is that men are not a reasoned or reasonable sex.
Only when manhood is dead -- and it will perish when ravaged femininity no longer sustains it -- only then will we know what it is to be free.
Poor little men, poor little cocks! As soon as they're old enough, they swell their plumage to be conquerors. If they only knew that it's enough to be just a little bit wounded and sad in order to obtain everything without fighting for it.
Providing for one's family as a good husband and father is a water-tight excuse for making money hand over fist. Greed may be a sin, exploitation of other people might, on the face of it, look rather nasty, but who can blame a man for doing the best for his children?
Prudent men woo thrifty women.
Reading, solitude, idleness, a soft and sedentary life, intercourse with women and young people, these are perilous paths for a young man, and these lead him constantly into danger.
Silent men like still waters, are deep and dangerous.
Since I am a man, my heart is three or four times less sensitive, because I have three or four times as much power of reason and experience of the world -- a thing which you women call hard-heartedness. As a man, I can take refuge in having mistresses. The more of them I have, and the greater the scandal, the more I acquire reputation and brilliance in society.
Some men are like nails, very easily drawn; others however are more like rivets never drawn at all.
Some men demand rough treatment everywhere!
Someone has to stand up for wimps.
Sometimes I have a notion that what might improve the situation is to have women take over the occupations of government and trade and to give men their freedom. Let them do what they are best at. While we scrawl interoffice memos and direct national or extranational affairs, men could spend all their time inventing wheels, peering at stars, composing poems, carving statues, exploring continents -- discovering, reforming, or crying out in a sacramental wilderness. Efficiency would probably increase, and no one would have to worry so much about the Gaza Strip or an election.
The Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of our whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says.
The intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.
The little man is still a man.