If the world were a logical place, men would ride side saddle.
Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.
It is funny the two things most men are proudest of is the thing that any man can do and doing does in the same way, that is being drunk and being the father of their son.
All men are not slimy warthogs. Some men are silly giraffes, some woebegone puppies, some insecure frogs. But if one is not careful, those slimy warthogs can ruin it for all the others.
Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
The way to a man's heart is through his hanky pocket with a breadknife.
I have heard women complain about men holding doors for them,, as if it is inherently offensive and implies that they are weak. ... I would hold a door for anyone. ... It has to do with noticing our fellow human beings and saying, "I recognize that you're on this planet, and I don't want a door hitting you in the face.
There is one thing I would break up over, and that is if she caught me with another woman. I won't stand for that.
The obvious and fair solution to the housework problem is to let men do the housework for, say, the next six thousand years, to even things up. The trouble is that men, over the years, have developed an inflated notion of the importance of everything they do, so that before long they would turn housework into just as much of a charade as business is now. They would hire secretaries and buy computers and fly off to housework conferences in Bermuda, but they'd never clean anything.
Women need a reason to have sex, men just need a place.
Men always talk about the most important things to perfect strangers. In the perfect stranger we perceive man himself; the image of a God is not disguised by resemblances to an uncle or doubts of wisdom of a mustache.
A man's heart may have a secret sanctuary where only one woman may enter, but it is full of little anterooms which are seldom vacant.
No nice men are good at getting taxis.
Men and women are but children of a larger growth.
For every mother who ever cursed God for her child dead in the road, for every father who ever cursed the man who sent him away from the factory with no job, for every child who was ever born to pain and asked why, this is the answer. Our lives are like these things I build. Sometimes they fall down for a reason, sometimes they fall down for no reason at all.
Man is an imitative animal. This quality is the germ of all education in him. From his cradle to his grave he is learning to do what he sees others do.
Why does man kill? He kills for food. And not only food: frequently there must be a beverage.
He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
Men are taught to apologize for their weaknesses, women for their strengths.
I don't know what a man is. Only that every man has his price.
Women are the right age for just a few years; men, for most of their lives.
I know many married men, I even know a few happily married men, but I don't know one who wouldn't fall down the first open coal hole running after the first pretty girl who gave him a wink.
Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.
Perfect numbers like perfect men are very rare.
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