When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
Her beauty is laced in her strength and interwoven through her flaws. She embodies perfection.
A beautiful woman is one with a beautiful heart. She may be covered with mud or sores but only her foot fit the glass slipper.
A quiet woman is a firearm with a silencer.
Mystery is what makes women, woman. A woman without mystery is no woman. She is a girl who has yet discovered the depths of her heart.
I can't decide whether I'm a good girl wrapped up in a bad girl, or if I'm a bad girl wrapped up in a good girl. And that's how I know I'm a woman!
The heart is like a woman, and the head is like a man, and although man is the head of woman, woman is the heart of man, and she turns man's head because she turns his heart.
A lady laced with grace . . . Such, is impossible to despise.
A woman sees the strength and potentials in a man and pushes him through support to be the very best. A girl sees him as less than he is capable of achieving.
The harsh light above them caught her face, and Sean could see what she'd look like when she was much older - a handsome woman, scarred by wisdom she never asked for.
I believe that what woman resents is not so much giving herself in pieces as giving herself purposelessly. What we fear is not so much our energy may be leaking away through small outlets as that it m...