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Misoginy Quotes

Quotes tagged as "misoginy" Showing 1-5 of 5
Germaine Greer
“Cunt-lapping, mother-fucking, and cock-sucking are words to provoke a sense of outrage. Being forced to play the role of a woman in sexual intercourse is the deepest imaginable humiliation, which is only worsened if the victim finds to his horror that he enjoys it.”
Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch

Daphne du Maurier
“[...] She was scarcely more than a child, but she listened with side eyes and open mouth of wonder when wh was spoken to; she was quick, too, in her way; she wasn't a fool [...] She said she would go with him for nothing [...] In a way she was better than Nanette because she told Julius he was the most wonderful person in the world. She made him feel important; she was willing and eager to please.”
Daphne du Maurier, Julius

Daphne du Maurier
“He had chosen her, she was his wife, she would do. The discovery he made was that the sensation of owning a wife, and a house, and a staff of servants, was a pleasurable one; that to order and be obeyed in his own home, to know he was master here as well as in his cafés, to entertain guests and be aware of their covetous glances at his goods, and his woman, was a thrill of keen intensity new and extremely satisfying.”
Daphne du Maurier, Julius

Daphne du Maurier
“Meanwhile, this only child helped to make up the pattern of his background, she was a necessary ornament to his private domestic life. There was something pleasing about the possession of a wife and a child, they formed another link in a chain of power.
A son would have grown up - proved difficult. A son was hard to control, and lived all the time in the hopes of inheriting money and position. There need be none of this trouble with a daughter. Daughters could be managed, all they had to do in life was to look attractive.”
Daphne du Maurier, Julius

Laura Lippman
“He gave her his best smile. He loved women who brought him food. Even when they were plain and unattractive, like this dumpy, pockmarked girl, he loved them.”
Laura Lippman, What the Dead Know