For I, a woman, have only known
How the heart melts and the tears run down.
For I, a woman, have only known
How the heart melts and the tears run down.
The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.
True genius, but true woman!
A woman is always younger than a man at equal years.
A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there she must prove what she can do before she does it, -- prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, ''A woman's function plainly is... to talk.'' Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed.
Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words.
What art can a woman be good at?
The works of women are symbolical. We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull our sight, producing what A pair of slippers, sir, to put on when you're weary -- or a stool. To stumble over and vex you... ''curse that stool'' Or else at best, a cushion, where you lean and sleep, and dream of something we are not, but would be for your sake. Alas, alas This hurts most, this... that, after all, we are paid the worth of our work, perhaps.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories