Woman Quotes
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Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.
Sofia Villani Scicolone
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As a writer and a mom, I wish I could split into two or three different people so I could be with my kids all day, write all day, and go out and do the interviews all day. Multiplicity woman!
G. Willow Wilson
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We all have these challenges and stereotypes that exist, but you can't let that hold you down... If that's the first thing you think about as a black woman - the challenge that lies ahead - you are thinking in the wrong direction, in my opinion.
Tamron Hall
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When I was about 13, I met the coolest, chicest young woman I had ever seen. She was a neighbor of mine who became a fashion designer and had a small design studio. She taught me so many things about style and fashion. I had always loved making things, so when she told me about her career in fashion, I knew I had found my path.
Narciso Rodriguez
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I love to see a woman in a sexy, strappy sandal no matter what. It just looks beautiful.
Edgardo Osorio
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What I have yet to see is a real woman choose a younger man because he spent six hours a day at the gym trying to sculpt his abs.
Candace Bushnell
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Because of the womb being a central phenomenon in the feminine body, the whole psychology of woman differs: she is non-aggressive, non-inquiring, non-questioning, non-doubting, because all of those things are part of aggression. She will not take the initiative; she simply waits - and she can wait infinitely.
Rajneesh
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For a long time, I was a career woman and that was it.
Laura Schlessinger
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Watch how you communicate with a woman. Because you're always communicating, even when you're not talking - with your body language, your facial expressions, your eyes.
Orlando Bloom
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And there is a beautiful thing which is wonderful, to look like a woman, not a green bean.
Laetitia Casta
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I feel like every woman is a queen, and we should be treated as such, and we should, you know, sort of request that sort of treatment from others.
Queen Latifah
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The widow of Michael Reardon was a full‐breasted woman in her late thirties. She had dark hair and green eyes, and an Irish nose spattered with a clichéful of freckles. She had a face for merry‐go‐rounds and roller coaster rides, a face that could split in laughter and girlish glee when water was splashed on her at the seashore. She was a girl who could get drunk sniffing the vermouth cork before it was passed over a martini. She was a girl who went to church on Sundays, a girl who’d belonged to the Newman Club when she was younger, a girl who was a virgin two days after Mike.
Ed McBain
