A Quote by Ann Hood

I am the woman with the cool vintage glasses... I am the proud wife beside her husband... I am the writer who has written a new novel. — © Ann Hood
I am the woman with the cool vintage glasses... I am the proud wife beside her husband... I am the writer who has written a new novel.
Do you ask why I am unwilling to marry a rich wife? It is because I am unwilling to be taken to husband by my wife. The mistress of the house should be subordinate to her husband, for in no other way, Priscus, will the wife and husband be on an equality.
I am proud to be a woman. I am sensual, nurturing and compassionate woman. I am a woman of my word and I love who I am.
I am proud that I am a good mother to my children, a good daughter to my mother, a good sister to my sis (Ashley Judd) and a good wife to my new husband.
I am proud to call myself a Hindu, I am proud that I am one of your unworthy servants. I am proud that I am a countryman of yours, you the descendants of the sages, you the descendants of the most glorious Rishis the world ever saw. Therefore have faith in yourselves, be proud of your ancestors, instead of being ashamed of them.
I am just like a common woman who love shopping in Sarojni Nagar and Janpath. I am the one who shops on Indian street, in malls of Dubai and even vintage stores of London and New York.
These false answers such as, I am stone, I am bird, I am animal, I am man, I am woman, I am great, I am small are, in turn, received, tested and discarded until the Question arrives at the right and Final Answer, I AM GOD.
I am not the candidate of Black America, although I am black and proud. I am not the candidate of the woman's movement of this country, although I am a woman and I am equally proud of that.
I wear glasses. That's how you'll know me. I am the speccy one.... And I am proud.
I stand before you today as a candidate for the Democratic nomination for the presidency of the United States. I am not the candidate of black America, although I am black and proud. I'm not the candidate of the women's movement of this country, although I am a woman, and I'm equally proud of that. I am not the candidate of any political bosses or fat cats or special interests... I am the candidate of the people...
Put me in a vintage shop, and I am like a child with sweeties. I find it a million times easier to find a vintage dress than trawl the shops for a pair of jeans, so I am either dressed in really nice vintage, or I am in a pair of tracksuit bottoms looking like a scruffbag.
[After her 18-day disappearance in 1974:] I love my husband very, very much, but he didn't ask me when he ran for mayor and he didn't consult me about running for governor. It would be nice to be asked. ... You know, I've been my mother's daughter, my father's daughter, the wife of my husband, the mother of my six children, and grandmother to my eleven grandchildren, but I have never been me. But I am now because I went away. I am a changed woman.
I am proud that I defy your categories. I am proud that I don't fit easily into any box. I am proud of all the things I am and all the things i can be. Question yourself every time you think you only see one thing in me.
I am the suburb of a non-existent town, the prolix commentary on a book never written. I am nobody, nobody. I am a character in a novel which remains to be written, and I float, aerial, scattered without ever having been, among the dreams of a creature who did not know how to finish me off.
I have to do the work of self-love and affirmation, and say, "I am a woman, I am a person of color, I am the granddaughter of immigrants, I am also the descendant of slaves, I am a mother, I am an entrepreneur, I am an artist, and I'm joyful." And maybe in seeing my joy, you can finish your sentence with, "And I am joyful too."
Just looking at me, I am a Black man. Born and bred, through and through. But I am also a lot of things. I am a father. I am a husband. I am a Christian. I am a comic book geek and I'm a creator.
Why am I always at war with myself? Why have I told, as if upon compulsion, what I knew all along I ought to have withheld? Why am I making a friend of this woman beside me, in spite of the whispers against her that I hear in my heart?
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