Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.
Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.
If you truly want to be respected by people you love, you must prove to them that you can survive without them.
If I grew up in the simple-minded belief that women were as strong and intelligent as men, it was because I came from a society that had once believed it.
I once began to ask around what constitutes a good poem. It felt petty, in a sense. A boy would need no help in deciding which girls he thinks are pretty.
If somebody tells me what to do, I will do my best not to do it.
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
Belief and faith are great, but very few people have been led astray by thinking for themselves.
Now and then women should do for themselves what men have already done-occasionally what men have not done-thereby establishing themselves as persons, and perhaps encouraging other women toward greater independence of thought and action.
We should have a State in which we could live and breathe as free men and which we could develop according to our own lights and culture and where principles of Islamic social justice could find free play.
I think it’s neat you do what you want. Not enough chicks do that, if you ask me–just tell society and their expectations to go fuck themselves. If more women did that, we’d be better off.