A Quote by Adela Rogers St. Johns

I think every woman is entitled to a middle husband she can forget. — © Adela Rogers St. Johns
I think every woman is entitled to a middle husband she can forget.
All things I do are in every woman. Every woman is Medea. Every woman is Jocasta. There comes a time when a woman is a mother to her husband. Clytemnestra is every woman when she kills.
Every woman dreams of love. When she is young she prays she will find it. When she is middle aged she hopes for it and when she is old she remembers it.
I'll never forget the first time Davram took me by the scruff of my neck and showed me he was the stronger of us. It was magnificent! If a woman is stronger than her husband, she comes to despise him. She has the choice of either tyrannizing him or else making herself less in order not to make him less. If the husband is strong enough, though, she can be as strong as she is, as strong as she can grow to be.
Observe how women defeat each other; whether it's simply for a promotion, for a husband, for survival, so she won't be beaten up in a relationship. She has to now fear every other woman because every woman represents a threat to her.
Adultery is in most cases a theft in the dark. At such moments almost every woman betrays her husband's innermost secrets; becomes a Delilah who discloses to a stranger, discloses to her lover, the mysteries of her husband's strength or weakness. What seems to me treason is, not that women give themselves, but that a woman is prone, when she does so, to justify herself to herself by uncovering her husband's nakedness, exposing it to the inquisitive and scornful gaze of a stranger.
I always tell this story: When I started, the woman went to the store to buy a dress. She saw it in pink and red, and then she remembered that the husband, who is probably going to pay for the dress, loves it in pink. So she buys the pink. Today, the same woman goes to the store and remembers the husband likes pink, and she buys the red.
I think Beyonce is every woman. She's superwoman, she's an extraordinary business woman, she's a force of fashion. She totally understands the way to communicate to millions and millions of fans.
Every time a woman makes herself laugh at her husband's often-told jokes she betrays him. The man who looks at his woman and says 'What would I do without you?' is already destroyed.
Folks, don't lose perspective. Michelle Obama husband has been in office 7-1/2 years. This country is in the middle of a massive transformation. She's not gonna go out there and undercut her husband. She probably thinks that the things her husband has done that are transforming this country, that 94 million Americans aren't working... I mean, if you knew what to listen for, you could hear the push-button signs that she's still angry, still carries around a lot of resentment.
The Hillary Clinton story basically is this. And see how similar this sounds to the old days before the modern era of feminism raised its head. You're a girl, you're a young woman, what do you do? You go off to college. That's what she did. Why do you go? To meet your husband. That's what she did. She wouldn't be where she is if it weren't for her husband.
Every woman is entitled to an opinion and the right to express that opinion-especially to the man she's married to.
I think about how truly interesting and odd it is that when a woman marries, traditionally she loses her name, becoming absorbed by the husband's family name - she is in effect lost, evaporated from all records under her maiden name. I finally understand the anger behind feminism - the idea that as a woman you are property to be conveyed between your father and your husband, but never an individual who exists independently. And on the flip side, it is also one of the few ways one can legitimately get lost - no one questions it.
The Middle Eastern woman is sophisticated; she is modern. She knows fashion more than anyone else, and she is really sexy, and she does know how to live fashion, and I think we can all learn from each other.
We're in a world where every single movie, if it has a woman in it, is usually wrapped around the woman wanting to be liked in some way, either in her life, or she's young, she's an ingenue, she's a hero, she's the lover of somebody, she's the grandmother, she's a chef.
A woman is never so happy as when she is being wooed. Then she is mistress of all she surveys, the cynosure of all eyes, until that day of days when she sails down the aisle, a vision in white, lovely as the stefanotis she carries, borne translucent on her father's manly arm to be handed over to her new father-surrogate. If she is clever, and if her husband has the time and the resources, she will insist on being wooed all her life; more likely she will discover that marriage is not romantic, that husbands forget birthdays and aniversaries and seldom pay compliments, are often perfunctory.
Not every woman is obsessed with shoes. But every woman is more obsessed with shoes than her husband is (although that's not too difficult to accomplish, since your husband has exactly two pairs--black shoes that are ten years old and barely broken in and sneakers that are so dirty they classify as a biohazard).
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