The guy behind the counter had been seriously adorable. Model-level cute. She had mentioned that, and Allan, her then boyfriend, hadn't taken it well. That's when she'd learned that male egos and fruit had a lot in common: Both bruised easily.
And that's when I realised that a mans' ego was like fruit; easily bruised.
From this new and intimate perspective, she learned a simple, obvious thing she had always known, and everyone knew; that a person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn, not easily mended.
I used to love eating canned fruit. Once I learned how to read a food label, I learned that canned fruit is arguably the least healthy form of fruit consumption.
With the black male as a teenager, where you're coming from the ghettos and that kind of stuff, you've got to assert yourself, be macho, not let anybody walk over you, so that's where all this unnecessary bullshit comes from - from egos. That's why there are a lot of fights. That's how come the whole thing with rap has been violent. It's because of the male ego.
There are a lot of male egos out there that cannot deal with highly successful women. And it's their problem.
Visionary idealism is a male art form. The lesbian aesthete does not exist. But if there were one, she would have learned from the perverse male mind.
He had not yet learned that the only safe male rebuke to a scornful female is to stay away from her - especially if that is what she desires.
Prior to Katrina, the South Bronx and New Orleans' Ninth Ward had a lot in common. Both were largely populated by poor people of color, both hotbeds of cultural innovation: think hip-hop and jazz. Both are waterfront communities that host both industries and residents in close proximity of one another.
She had, without realizing it at the time, learned to follow Nick's gaze, learned to learn his lust...his desires remained memorized within her. She looked at the attractive women he would look at...She had become him: she longed for these women. But she was also herself, and so she despised them. She lusted after them, but she also wanted to beat them up. A rapist. She had become a rapist, driving to work in a car.
As if to build a fence around the fatal emptiness inside her, she had to create a sunny person that she became. But if you peeled away the ornamental egos that she had built, there was only an abbys of nothingness and the intense thirst that came with it. Though she tried to forget it, the nothingness would visit her periodically - on a lonely rainy afternoon, or at dawn when she woke up from a nightmare. What she needed at such times was to be held by someone, anyone.
If I was a male, I had the right to, when I stepped out the door, take off my shirt. It's not right for the state to ask me to be both male and female. A choice needs to be made. They cannot hold me to both standards.
Simon: 'You know men. We have delicate egos.' Clary: 'I wouldn't describe Jace's ego as delicate.' Simon: 'No, Jace's is sort of the antiaircraft artillery tank of male egos.
I learned a lot from Cherry Jones, from the questions she asked and the opinions she had.
I learned a lot about my parents, who were both teachers. I had known that my parents were very strongly in favor of education. I had known that they had an impact on a lot of people, but people came out of the woodwork who have said, "You know, without your father, I would never have gone to college," very successful people. And so I learned how widespread their educational evangelism really was.
It did no good to cry, she had learned that early on. She had also learned that every time she tried to make someone aware of something in her life, the situation just got worse. Consequently it was up to her to solve her problems by herself, using whatever methods she deemed necessary.