Woman Hater Quotes

“Boy, it sure was some strange Christmas, she told herself as she opened the living room door. And then she stopped dead. Because her present wasn’t under the huge lighted Christmas tree. It was sitting on the sofa, looking toward her furiously, with a glass of whiskey in one lean hand. “Merry Christmas,” Winthrop said curtly.
Her mouth flew open. He had a bow stuck on the pocket of his gray vested suit, and he looked hung over and pale and a little disheveled. But he was so handsome that her heart skipped wildly, and she looked into his dark eyes with soft dreams in her own.
“You’ve got a bow on your pocket,” she said in a voice that sounded too high-pitched to be her own.
“Of course I’ve got a bow on my pocket. I’m your damned Christmas present. Didn’t you listen to your father?”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater

“Not really. I’m tired and I’d like to go to bed.”
“At last, we agree on something.” He moved toward her.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I’m saving myself for my future husband.”
“Thank you.”
“It won’t be you,” she told him doggedly. “I’m not crazy enough to think that. You aren’t a marrying man, remember? You don’t want commitment.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he muttered.
“Well, I do,” she said. “I want to go home.”
“To a lonely apartment in Chicago?”
“It won’t be lonely long,” she assured him. “I’m going to start my very own lonely hearts chapter.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Nobody would want to meet over your old dead body.”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater

“Well so am I.” She stared at the coverlet. “What I said…earlier,” she faltered, glancing at him and then away. “I was overwrought and tired, and I guess I kind of got carried away.”
“You mistook a chill for true love?”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater

“He groaned her name as he bent, his mouth so tender, so exquisitely gentle with hers that tears ran hotly down her cheeks. He was the world, and everything in it. She loved him so.”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater

“Even as she was asking herself the question, the kitchen door opened suddenly and Winthrop came in with something furry by the tail.
Mary stared, but Nicky went forward. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “A wounded squirrel! Wait, I’ll rush and get a bandage!”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Winthrop ground out. He slid the squirrel onto the sink for Mary to deal with and glared at Nicky as he eased out of his sheepskin jacket and hat, dumping them untidily on the floor.
“There ought to be a law against shooting unarmed squirrels,” Nicky muttered for something to say.
Winthrop went to the sink to wash his hands, ignoring her.
“Nice squirrel,” Mary defended him. “Plump. Make good stew.”
“I’ll bet he was somebody’s daddy,” Nicky murmured.
“You’re breaking my heart,” Winthrop said nonchalantly. ”
“What’s for dinner?” he asked Mary.
“Moussaka.”
“That stuff with eggplant?” He made a face. “Whatever happened to beef and potatoes?”
“Need change of pace.”
“No, I don’t,” he argued. “I like having the same thing every day. It gives me a sense of security.”
“Then why go out and kill an innocent squirrel when you really wanted a steak?” Nicky asked.
“He wasn’t innocent,” he replied. “I have it on good authority that he was a rounder with unspeakable taste in women squirrels.”
“Well, in that case, let’s all eat him,” Nicky agreed.”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater

“At least her nice boss was going to come out ahead, she thought. Gerald would marry Sadie and have a perfectly wonderful life while Nicky grew old taking dictation. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Maybe she could do what she’d threatened Winthrop with—get married and have children. Sure. Nothing easier. First, she had to find a man. And who could measure up to old stone face?”
― Diana Palmer, Woman Hater