Women S Lit Quotes & Sayings

He fits me without a flaw. At the beginning, I was apprehensive that he might swallow me whole and I'd disappear for having him. After the time spent together, I'm certain that Colton is the day to my night. And we both have the same value, power, control, individuality and independency. No one disappears. We are like an equinox. Just like the day moves into the night and then night into day, we both complete each other and build a partnership. We are two different entities co-existing superbly, letting each other be but never leaving each other's side. — Kristina Steiner

For the first time in her life, Alba wanted to be beautiful. She regretted that the splendid women in her family had not bequeathed their attributes to her, that the only one who had, Rosa the Beautiful, had given her only the algae tones in her hair, which seemed more like a hairdresser's mistake then anything else. Miguel understood the source of her anxiety. He led her by the hand to the huge Venetian mirror that adorned one wall of their secret room, shook the dust from the cracked glass, and lit all the candles they had and arranged them around her. She stared at herself in the thousand pieces of the mirror. In the candlelight her skin was the unreal color of wax statues. Miguel began to caress her and she saw her face transformed in the kaleidoscope of the mirror, and she finally believed that she was the most beautiful woman in the universe because she was able to see herself with Miguel's eyes. — Isabel Allende

To be a great writer you must be fearless with your words. — Karmel Graham

That these mandates exist is hardly news, but their cumulative effect on women's lives tends to be examined through a fragmented lens, one-pathology-at-a-time, the eating disorder lit on the self-help shelves separated from the books on women's troubled relationships with men, the books on compulsive shopping separated from the books on female sexuality, the books on culture and media separated from the books on female psychology. Take your pick, choose your demon: Women Who Love Too Much in one camp, Women Who Eat Too Much in another, Women Who Shop Too Much in a third. In fact, the camps are not so disparate, and the question of appetite - specifically the question of what happens to the female appetite when it's submerged and rerouted - is the thread that binds them together. One woman's tub of cottage cheese is another's maxed-out MasterCard; one woman's soul-murdering love affair is another's frenzied eating binge. — Caroline Knapp

I find the entrance to the women's washroom ... There's a rest area, gently lit in pinkish tones, with several easy chairs and a sofa, in a lime-green bamboo-shoot print, with a wall clock above it in a gold filigree frame. Here they haven't removed the mirror, there's a long one opposite the sofa. You need to know, here, what you look like. — Margaret Atwood

The world is only as small as your mind makes it. — Katie St. Claire

I'm making out with a dead girl in my dreams. I'm screwing women I have no business screwing. I'm pushing away the one person who actually gives a damn about me. It's like the Bermuda Triangle of heartache and I'm sinking fast. — Faith Sullivan

I've been typed as historical fiction, historical women's fiction, historical mystery, historical chick lit, historical romance - all for the same book. — Lauren Willig

Me having a stalker is like Donald Trump having a sense of humility. It's not a match.
~From LIBERTY & MEANS — Kristin Dow

This was no peck on the lips. This was a real first kiss, a movie-star-knock-her-socks-off-fireworks-light-up-the-sky kind of kiss.
A girl could live to be a hundred and never forget that kiss. — Carol Fragale Brill

The room was lit by the displays on the game decks, pink and blue and gold. Most of them were themed around sex or violence, or both. Press a button, spend your money, and watch the girls put foreign and offensive objects inside themselves while you waited to see whether you'd won. Slot machines, poker, real-time lotteries. The men who played them exuded an atmosphere of stupidity, desperation, and an almost tangible hatred of women. — James S.A. Corey

You are Zyon's daughter. You are a soul reader. This trip is more than just a vacation," Jadan said firmly. "You might feel like postponing it now, but we need to look for the medallion while we are in that region. Joe will keep an eye on everything. Plus, your mom will know what to do. I can even call for backup. — Dianne Bright

She says it is a school for bluestockings which, according to her, is really only a fashionable way of saying it is a school for ugly girls who cannot find suitable husbands. To tease her, for I believe it is one of his greatest pleasures in this life, my father bought a pair of blue silk stockings for me the day we received my letter of acceptance. That evening and the next, father and I dined alone. — Gwenn Wright

I think, for me, there's The Book I Should Write and The Book I Wanted to Write - and they weren't the same book. The Book I Should Write should be realistic, since I studied English Lit. It should be cultural. It should reflect where I am today. The Book I Wanted to Write would probably include flying women, magic, and all of that. — Marlon James

The magical gem bracelet, in all of its yellow beauty, was out of its league. My mind and heart couldn't slow down." --- Jennifer Mills — Dianne Bright

The point is obvious. There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist/Unitarian, Irish/Italian/Octogenarian/Zen Buddhist, Zionist/Seventh-day Adventist, Women's Lib/Republican, Mattachine/Four Square Gospel feels it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the fuse. Every dimwit editor who sees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain-porridge unleavened literature licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme. — Ray Bradbury

Look at this, Grace," Peg's e-mail said. "He's entrancing those people. I just realized. Taking them out of themselves. Ty is sort of like a medicine man. A shaman.
P.S. Have you called him? — Shelle Sumners

A man is the history of his breaths and thoughts, acts, atoms and wounds, love indifference and dislike, also of his race and nation, the soil that fed him and his forbears, the stones and sands of his familiar places, long-silenced battles and struggles of conscience, of the smiles of girls and the slow utterance of old women, of accidents and the gradual action of inexorable law, of all this and something else, too, a single flame which in every way obeys the laws that pertain to Fire itself, and yet is lit and put out from one moment to the next, and can never be relumed in the whole waste of time to come. — A.S. Byatt

In brief: consciousness is a phenomenon in the zone of evolution. This world lights up to itself only where or only inasmuch as it develops, procreates new forms. Places of stagnancy slip from consciousness; they may only appear in their interplay with places of evolution.
If this is granted it follows that consciousness and discord with one's own self are inseparably linked up, even that they must, as it were, be proportional to each other. This sounds a paradox, but the wisest of all times and peoples have testified to confirm it. Men and women for whom this world was lit in an unusually light of awareness, and who by life and word have, more than others, formed and transformed that work of art which we call humanity, testify by speech and writing or even by their lives that more than others have they been torn by the pangs of inner discord. Let this be a consolation to him who also suffers from it. Without it nothing enduring has ever been begotten. — Erwin Schrodinger

A mysterious ability, a broken promise, a life changed forever ... — Kim Hornsby

Jadan's kiss on my forehead wasn't that big of a deal, something that a boy would have done at a junior high dance or how a friend would say goodbye before a long trip. But it felt like more. It seemed like he wanted more." ---Jennifer Mills — Dianne Bright

Maybe some people think we're too different, but maybe we're not," Joshua said. "Maybe we're two sides of the same coin."
"Like, 'You complete me'?" Melina asked, snickering. She couldn't resist quoting the corny line.
"No, not like that," Joshua said. "Like, you challenge me. You get me fired up. We're like steak and horseradish."
"That's such as dude thing to say," Melina laughed. "What am I?"
Joshua grinned devilishly. "The hot one, of course! — Heidi Joy Tretheway

The intimate and the infinite are tangled together in this incandescent book, lit by Aristotle's bright spark of a daughter. Lucid even in nightmare, The Sweet Girl slips sideways around the philosopher to examine the lives of girls and women when we were not yet human. — Marina Endicott

I find it strange that practicing law in a comfortable well-heated office is considered too demanding an occupation for women, yet laboring from dawn's first light in crowded, drafty, ill-lit sweatshops is not. — Shirley Tallman

Generally, men are superior in the areas of heavy lifting, where there's a past only by pachyderms and building cranes. Beyond that, I believe any right-thinking thinking will see that women have the indisputable advantage. — Lois Greiman

In the morning we shed our blue sheep's clothing. Our border shirts came out of satchels and onto our backs. We preferred this means of dress for it was more flatout and honest. The shirts were large with pistol pockets, and usually colored red or dun. Many had been embroidered with ornate stitching by loving women some were blessed enough to have. Mine was plain, but well broken in. I can think of no more chilling a sight than that of myself all astride my big bay horse with six or eight pistols dangling from my saddle, my rebel locks aloft on the breeze and a whoopish yell on my lips. When my awful costume was multiplied by that of my comrades, we stopped feint hearts just by our mode of dread stylishness. — Daniel Woodrell

I am a very good cook." When she did cook.
"Good. I like to eat." He lightly bit her palm.
The too-much-air feeling in Lucy's stomach pressed upward into her heart. "What?" she asked past the constriction in her chest.
"What do I like to eat?"
"Yeah."
"Blondes with blue eyes."
Oh God. She pulled her hand from his. "Are you hungry?"
His gaze lowered to her mouth. "I could eat. — Rachel Gibson

Agonizing really, how enduring love can be. Even after you have packed it up and put it away, it is still there - always there, yellowing around the edges and begging you to turn its pages again. — Tina L. Hook

Where's Kiernan?" I asked.
"He's with Brother Cyrus. Your turn."
The blood drained from my face and I stepped back, toward the wall. One of the older women, Glory, had died from a heart attack the year before. At the burial, all of the adults patted each other on the back and said she was with Brother Cyrus now.
The key suddenly felt like a lit coal in my hand, and I dropped it to the floor.
Patrick must have realized what I was thinking from my expression. "No, stupid," he said, as he bent down to pick up the key. "He's not dead. He's with Cyrus. In the future. He's fine. You'll be fine. — Rysa Walker

As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of time without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women of Prince Bolkonsky's household felt that their life had not been real till then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing, immediately increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have been passed in darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness full of significance. — Leo Tolstoy

Chick-lit may be staggering on its heels, but women's fiction is alive and kicking. — Jojo Moyes

Death. Life. They are in the air, the water, the earth, and the fire that surround us. They co-mingle like a dance of weeping and rejoicing. The joy and pain become one. We are of a dualistic nature." ---Jennifer Mills — Dianne Bright

In the past, I was sometimes put in this women's lit category, and I was never really sure that was the appropriate place for me - although I certainly recognize it can be helpful and correct for other people. — Jami Attenberg

The lady in the latrine, Julie DuBois, and I were on our first date after three weeks of shameless flirting. I'm about forty, Julie's about thirty - a PhD in English lit, a professor at American University, learned, tenured, brilliant, blonde, blue-eyed - and, not that it matters, also quite attractive. I had been looking forward to this date for a week; I really wanted to get Julie's take on Marcel Proust's persistent use of subordinate clauses, a literary mystery I can never seem to get out of my mind - and yes, Julie was having trouble believing that, too. But men who date women for their looks alone are pigs. — Brian Haig

Honest friends is kinda nice, but it's hard to beat a big-ass lie and a six-pack of brewskies. — Lois Greiman

I know it must seem completely idiotic to you," Maddie said, hoping to coax at least a grunt from her, "hiring a date to your only sister's wedding and all."
Louise slowly nodded.
"I mean, who does such things nowadays, right? Women don't need men for anything. Well, they do need them for one thing. But that's all - and, really, debatable depending on your sexual orientation. — Jennifer Shirk

There is no greater treasure than a woman's heart; her true, enrossing feelings making harmony in your life. Like a long-lit song playing in all your days. — C. David Murphy

I glanced at Radu. "What, exactly is Louis-Cesare's problem?'. [..]
Suddenly a speculative gleam lit his eyes. It made me nervous. 'He tends to be very protective of women,"he said thoughtfully. "You're a woman Dory."
"Thank you for pointing that out. But I didn't think dhampirs qualified."
Radu smirked. "It appears you've been upgraded. — Karen Chance

I say, 'I write romance, women's fiction, chick lit.' I think it all fits very comfortably under the same umbrella. Basically, I write books for women - books about relationships: books that make you laugh and sometimes make you cry a little. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I teach a lot of graduate creative writing classes, and on the first day, I like to go around the room and ask everybody what's the last book you've read that you really loved. And all of the women tend to give me chick lit titles. And to me, that's sort of disappointing because it's their only exposure to fiction somehow. — Cristina Henriquez

My eyelashes tickled the peephole. from Fogged Up Fairy Tale (Summer 2014) — Denise Baer

But I can say that if you're a writer who happens to be a woman, you'll get a book cover that depicts a woman with no head, or a woman turning away, or a pair of high heels. You have to fight to not get stuck with these covers. In the U.S. women are chick-lit writers unless they prove otherwise, and that's frustrating. — Lauren Groff

Maybe curiosity did kill your cat. But it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on the neighbor's rottweiler just the same. — Lois Greiman

I know you think I've behaved like a cad, so I'm coming clean. I love you, Tess. I have for a long time. I ache for you. Every morning I wake up, wishing you were in my arms. Back when Cassie was at her mom's, I was relieved to be thinking about you and not her so much anymore, until I realized it meant that I was in love with you. I fell for you that first morning, when I saw you coming out of the garage with Dave. I couldn't tell you the other day, but I wanted you to know." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Maybe I have been protecting myself, but mostly, I wanted to protect you. — Lilly Christine