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But memory and time aren’t friends. They reject each other, they hurry in opposite directions, pulling the binding taut between them, threatening to snap. They fight, and we inexplicably lose. Memory and time. Always losing one as you go on with the other.
It’s almost funny how much people will say in front of a woman they only view as a possession.
You can have all the gold in the world and yet lack everything of real worth.
How to please a man. As if that should be a woman’s—saddle or otherwise—sole purpose for living.
The world was run by bad men.
It’s the arrogance of men, to think so little of women. And it’ll be their downfall too.
I won’t sit idly by and keep letting men crush me in their fists.
Maybe it would be a blessing to fall into the snowbanks and never wake up. A gentler embrace than what these men have in mind, that’s for sure.
Men making deals on the behalf of women never seems to go very well for the women.
Like we’re something to digest, to consume, to devour.
