It was remarked that if a man had delivered the Declaration of Conscience, he would have been the next president.

Men weren’t to be trusted, but once you knew that, you had only yourself to blame if things went wrong.

How did I think I could know you without loving you?

Because when you called bullies to account, they weren’t likely to back down. They were more likely to put their hands around your neck and choke you.

Claire had never had any trouble approaching a man she wanted; she threw out her chest and let her eyes go shiny the way they did for the camera when she climbed on a papier-mâché warhead, and that was usually enough. Women, though . . . You could drive yourself mad, wondering Did she hold my eyes a moment too long just now? Did she linger,

She needed an excuse to take off the sugar-sweet smile and scream more often, Bea thought. Maybe all women did.

Bea liked men, they tended to like her, and that was a long way from being a tramp, regardless of what people like Mrs. Nilsson thought.

Really, men handled heartbreak much worse than women did. Women (as Bea knew, having consoled plenty of teammates through faithless lovers and broken engagements) just cried it out as hard as they could, ate all the cake their listening friends pressed on them, then moved on. Men jutted their chins and insisted they were absolutely fine, nothing

I don’t know what lofty ideal of motherhood you were sold, but let me tell you: there isn’t a mother born who doesn’t want to drop her two-year-old out a window from time to time.”