Feisty Woman Quotes

(...)The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who's got my back and enough to her that she'll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I'd find my way to beauty eventually. And I'd find absolution because I'd know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who's got so much to her it'll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward." Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did he just say that? Did. He. Just. Say that? "And you told me," Tack continued, his face coming closer, "I had that when I first met you.

She brought her elbow backward and connected with Rand’s ribs. He swore and released her. She whirled on him. “That’s for being so arrogant!” Rand advanced on her, and the grin on his face wasn’t at all reassuring. She took one step back, then turned to sprint into the bathroom, when a pair of hands caught her and slung her over a hard muscled shoulder. “Put me down right now!” She screamed as she pummeled his back. “You are the most annoying, selfish, barbaric, horny man I know, Rand Miller!” He set her back on her feet inside the bathroom, then cupped her chin in his palm. “You are the most gorgeous, intelligent, feisty woman I know, Lucy Flemming.” Lucy narrowed her eyes. What was he up to now? “Flattery won’t help you out of this one.” “It’s not flattery. It’s the truth,” he murmured as he leaned close to her ear. “And, baby?” “Yes?” she answered, her voice nearly inaudible as his nearness began to override her anger. “I’d better be the only horny man you know.

Feisty, am I? My husband is a member of the Congregation. A posse of men is coming on horseback to accuse me of harming a friendless old woman. I’m in a strange place and keep getting lost on my way to the bedroom. I still have no shoes. And I’m living in a dormitory full of adolescent boys who never stop talking!” I fumed. “But you needn’t trouble yourself on my account. I can take care of myself!

I wasn't raised to let a woman walk through a dimly lit parking lot alone. Wasn't born in a cornfield, you know.” Velia turned. “No, I didn't know. So, you're quite a gentleman. Don't we sound like a good pair—the devil woman and the gentleman?

This woman. She was feisty and determined. A force to be reckoned with.

Girls are better at this sort of labour, often called 'emotional labour', not because there's anything in the meat and matter of our living cells that makes us naturally better but because we're trained for it from birth. Trained to make other people feel good. Trained to serve the coffee, fill in the forms, organise the parties and wipe the table afterwards. Trained to be feisty, if we must, but not strong. To be bubbly, not funny. You must at no stage appear to have a body that functions in a normal human way, that pisses and shits and sweats and farts and falters. Decorate the prison of your body. Make yourself useful. Shut up and smile.

A Black woman isn't justifiably upset, she's angry. A Latinx person confronts someone, they're fiery or feisty. I don't like raising my voice in public, Max. There's too much baggage associated with it. A woman gets emotional in the workplace, she's irrational and not fit for leadership. I was fired for being overly emotional in a male-dominated space.

Leave me alone, or I will shoot,” a woman’s husky voice rang out through the broken window. “I'm not too afraid to blow your ass right back to whatever hell you come from.

It’s why I picked you. You were feisty and independent, but if you scratched just under the surface, you were vulnerable and fragile. It’s so easy to mould someone into what you want. Watch them turn into your perfect woman and know that it’s all just for you. Their energy dies, and they become compliant and eager to please. It’s all just a matter of control and time.

These books are so splendid, they frustrate readers conditioned to lesser historical fiction in which every Confederate officer was young, dashing, and raised with a free-black best friend on a progressive plantation, or that features a feisty, clandestinely educated, proto-liberated woman rebelling valiantly against the constricting patriarchal societies of bygone centuries (all the while wearing enthralling dresses). The first sort of novel romanticizes the past, the second euthanizes it. The

Did he say anything to you?” “Just that I was supposed to watch you while he was gone. A hunt can take several days.” “Really? I had no idea it would take that long.” I hestitated, “So…he doesn’t mind you staying here while he’s gone.” “Oh, he minds,” he chuckled, “but he wants to make sure you’re safe. At least he trusts me that much.” “Well, I think he’s mad at both of us right now.” Kishan looked at me curiously with a raised eyebrow. “How so?” “Um…let’s just say we had a misunderstanding.” Kishan’s face turned hard. “Don’t worry, Kelsey. I’m sure that whatever he’s upset about is foolish. He’s very argumentative.” I sighed and shook my head sadly. “No, it’s really all my fault. I’m difficult, a hindrance, and I’m a pain to have around sometimes. He’s probably used to being around sophisticated, more experienced women who are much more…more…well, more than I am.” Kishan quirked an eyebrow. “Ren hasn’t been around any women as far as I know. I must confess that I’m now exceedingly curious as to what your argument was about. Whether you tell me or not, I won’t tolerate any more derogatory comments about yourself. He’s lucky to have you, and he’d better realize it.” He grinned. “Of course, if you did have a falling out, you’re always welcome to stay with me.” “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really want to live in the jungle.” He laughed. “For you, I would even consider a change of residence. You, my lovely, are a prize worth fighting for.” I laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. “You, sir, are a major flirt. Worth fighting for? I think you two have been tigers for too long. I’m no great beauty, especially when I’m stuck out here in the jungle. I haven’t even picked a college major yet. What have I ever done that would make someone want to fight over me?” Kishan apparently took my rhetorical questions seriously. He reflected for a moment, and then answered, “For one thing, I’ve never met a woman so dedicated to helping others. You put your own life at risk for a person you met only a few weeks ago. You are confident, feisty, intelligent, and full of empathy. I find you charming and, yes, beautiful.” The golden-eyed prince fingered a strand of my hair. I blushed at his assessment, sipped my water, and then said softly, “I don’t like him being angry with me.” Kishan shrugged and dropped his hand, looking slightly annoyed that I’d steered the conversation back to Ren. “Yes. I’ve been on the receiving side of his anger, and I’ve learned not to underestimate his ability to hold a grudge.

In early Islam in seventh century Arabia, Muslim women were feisty and unafraid to fight for their rights. With the passing of the centuries, their dramatic progress stagnated and stalled, causing them to regress. Women need to reclaim their rightful legacy by educating themselves, as is a duty under Islam.

The sleep seems to descend on females early in life. Studies conducted by Harvard professor Carol Gilligan and Colby College professor Lyn Mikel Brown from 1986 to 1990 have revealed that something truly phenomenal happens to girls around adolescence.8 They undergo a gradual change in which they lose their feisty spirit, courage, and willingness to speak out—qualities they had known in girlhood. Around this time their truth becomes silenced, held back. They become afraid of conflict with males, because they know on some level that males hold the power. They become—perhaps forever—good little girls, settling into the clichés and limits imposed on their

Realization strikes me like lightning, brilliant and violent. I love her. Terror hits me harder than a semi-truck, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I love this exquisite, feisty, damaged woman in a way I never thought possible. And it scares the fucking shit out of me. My chest constricts. I can’t breathe. For half a second, I seriously think I might be having a heart attack.

That movie you made me watch, first time at your house. Love and redemption. You said, ‘The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.’You said that, Red. Right out. And I knew if you got that, when it was later and I shared my shit with you, you’d get me. I never thought my story was beautiful. I thought it was shit. But you said that and when you did, I saw it. The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who’s got my back and enough to her that she’ll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I’d find my way to beauty eventually. And I’d find absolution because I’d know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who’s got so much to her it’ll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward.”Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did he just say that? Did. He. Just. Say that? “And you told me,”Tack continued, his face coming closer, “I had that when I first met you.”“I—”“So I was hooked to that shit, I did it, I participated in it, I was loyal to my brothers as I’d vowed I’d be and I pulled me and my Club out of it. I did that but that didn’t erase what we did. You are my absolution.

Couldn't I come along with you? I've been trapped inside for days now and I need some sunshine and exercise. If you're really busy today, maybe I could hhelp. It's not as if I'm a greenhorn who'd get in your way." "This isn't a good idea, Freckles, and you know it." The feisty redhead grinned. "I admit I'm somewhat ignorant on the subject, but I've never heard of doing "it" on the back of a horse." A roguish grin dangled from the corner of his mouth. "Sweetheart, you'd be surprised where...Never mind." Though he'd tried to sound gruff, Willow detected a slight wavering in his determination. "I'll promise not to attack your body, if that's what you're worried about." She started laughing. Moving closer, she backed him against the door. Then tilting her head, she hit him full force with her big blue-green sparklers. Her lips parted in a very seductive, very naughty smile. "Please, just a short ride?" She toyed with the edge of his black leather vest, the backs of her fingers sliding up and down his chest. Rider sucked in a gulp of air. "Dammit, woman,what's Mrs. Brigham been teaching you? Stop that!" He batted her hand away, laughing despite himself. He was beaten and he knew it. "Well?" She smiled slyly. He grasped her arms and set her away to a safer distance. "All right, all right. I give up. I'll take you for a ride." When her face lit up,he raised a cautioning finger and hastened to add, "On one condition. You have to keep yours hands to yourself. No touching!" "Yes! I promise!" Willow threw herself into his arms and pulled his face close for a brisk buss on the cheek. Then she sprang free and skipped past him to the door. "I kow, no touching. That was just a thank you. Hurry up, I'm all ready to go." Following in her wake, Rider groaned, "Yeah,so am I-in more ways than one." "What did you say?" she called back. "I said you were a little flirt!" She gave him an innocent smile over her shoulder and sprinted off to saddle Sugar.

way to respond to such a test is to give an ambiguous answer and then change the topic. For example, you could respond by saying - “It’s hard to know what people mean to say when you cannot see their body language, mannerisms, etc.” Never qualify yourself in your emails. If she mentions in an email that she loves the car that you are standing next to in one of your photographs, get her talking about why she loves it. Ask her about her interest in automobiles. You could even ask her if she has a need for speed. Do not begin talking about how you bought that car last year and it cost you a pretty penny. Do not talk about how it goes from zero to 60 miles per hour in under five seconds or how people always ask you to give them a joyride in it. Do not bite on her bait. A woman will do this to see if a man might slip up and show her exactly how desperate he is to get validation from other people, especially women. Sample questions Which of the following animals do you like? a. Komodo dragon (+5) b. Bonobo (+3) c. Dog (0) d. Cat  (-1) Your friends would describe you as: a. Sweet and supportive (+5) b. Feisty, fun and sassy (+3) c. Strong and independent (0) d. Totally random (-1)

You know, darlin’, on the one hand you’re so damned feisty. And believe me; I like that in a woman. But, on the other…” he said, crossing to her and gently stroking her hair, “…you’re so damned shy.

Is Mr. Huntley safe?” Bethany’s composed voice sounded through the connection. “He is. Are you?” “I’m fine. Jeff and I went for a drive around the block. I had to tell him to stay to the left twice.” Liev laughed in spite of himself. “Did you keep him close?” Bethany’s question sent tight ropes of tension through Liev’s chest. “I did.” “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I first rang?” Because I was tongue-fucking our boss against a door. The confession played through Liev’s mind like a wicked taunt. “I was dealing with the situation.” “I want details later.” He snorted at Bethany’s calm demand. “Tough. You’re not going to get them.” Bethany chuckled. “Yes, I will,” she said, and then hung up. Suppressing a growl, Liev shoved his phone back into his pocket. Chris’s P.A. was an enigma. A frustrating, feisty enigma who seemed to have an agenda regarding their boss that Liev couldn’t decipher but somehow seemed to be a part of. Which made her his new favourite woman in the world. Or his least.

If the girl next door had an unpredictable, feisty twin sister, this woman would be her. With her adorably stubborn frown and quiet, kitten gaze still mulishly refusing to look directly at him again, she was drawing him in—hook, line, and sinker.

Carl discreetly turned his head to the left and then the right to make sure Mom wasn’t within hearing range. “I tried to stick it in er ass once and she didn’t speak to me for a week,” he nearly whispered before belting out a slur of loose chuckles. “And gettin’ ‘er to do ya on top? Forget about it!” In ways, I morphed into Carl’s description of the ideal woman. Like Mom, physical beauty was my ultimate priority. I spent hours on end stripped naked, posing in front of my full length bedroom mirror at every angle so that each wrinkle, roll, and pinch of fat could receive sharp scrutiny before I strived for complete self annihilation. I made it a habit of studying every Teen magazine model and the skinniest cheerleaders in my middle school yearbook. I observed their arms, legs, and hips. I held their images against mine with a goal for my bones to protrude further and calves spread further apart when standing straight. However, I saw the way Carl bent his head down and lowered his voice when he spoke about Mom, as if it was our job to keep a feisty, barking puppy believing that it was our guard dog. “Ure mom can’t help she got half ure I-Q,” Carl would chuckle.

I understand. I’ll call my brother and he’ll come get me.” Gracie’s hand flew up and her eyes went wide. “Wait, what?” “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” After thirteen years, she was used to giving up her desires to do the right thing; she only wished it wasn’t so hard. “You’re right, it’s best if I go home.” “No!” Gracie shouted. She straightened and stepped closer to Maddie. “No! That’s not what I meant. I was only trying to say, ‘be careful.’” The men chose that moment to burst in the door like a bunch of rambunctious puppies, filling the room with chaos and testosterone. Gracie placed her hand over her forehead. “Oh, shit, he’s going to kill me.” Mitch stopped on a dime, his attention going first to Maddie and then to Gracie. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “What did you do?” All three men turned to Gracie. They advanced on her, gleaming with sweat. Alarm stirred. Maddie didn’t need to see their faces. The aggression was clear in their stance. The sheriff crossed his arms over his broad chest, and the muscles in his back rippled with the movement. Like Mitch, he also had a tribal-looking tattoo, although it was on his left shoulder instead of wrapping around his bicep. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” Gracie seemed to regain some of her composure, and her chin tilted. “I was only . . .” She cleared her throat. “Being friendly. And helpful.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Didn’t I tell you to leave it alone?” “Yes, but . . .” Gracie glanced at Maddie. “I was worried, and—” Mitch sliced a hand through the air. “What happened?” The men reminded Maddie so much of her brothers and their tactics lit her temper. “That’s enough!” They all swung around. The men’s eyes were sharp, hard with leftover adrenaline. It gave her a moment of pause, before she brushed their daunting presence aside and vaulted off her position by the sink. They tracked her as she stomped around them to stand in front of Gracie. “Stop intimidating her.” Charlie laughed, a wry, amused sound. “Honey, we couldn’t intimidate her if we tried.” His gaze slid over Gracie in a familiar, intimate way. “Although I do think she’s angling for a spanking.” “Ha! You wish.” Gracie placed a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “Thanks for trying to rescue me. You’re a doll.” She sniffed. “It’s nice to have another female here. I never have anyone on my side.” Sam shook his head. “What did I tell you?” Maddie planted her hands on her hips. “She didn’t do anything, so stop it.” Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say, Maddie?” “I was just—” Gracie said. “Nothing.” Maddie cut her off as a sudden loyalty toward the woman behind her swelled in her chest. “It has nothing to do with any of you. Now back off.” Charlie’s lips curled into a smile. “Aren’t you a feisty little thing?” “I might be little,” Maddie said, in a righteous tone. “But I’m used to dealing with my brothers, who are all bigger and scarier than you.” Charlie laughed and elbowed Mitch in the ribs. “That sounds like a challenge.” Maddie risked a glance at Mitch to find his expression still hard, not amused at all. He crossed his arms. “I want to talk to Maddie. Alone.” Sam jutted his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.” Gracie squeezed Maddie’s shoulders. “Thanks for sticking up for me. And remember, I’m right next door if you need anything.” “She won’t,” Mitch said, his tone matching the dark expression he wore. Strangely,

Darcy picked her up again, this time not as gently as he had when she’d tripped on the root. He carried her under one arm like a sack of grain, though to his credit, he avoided putting pressure on her lower abdomen. “I said no, ye contrary thing, and I’m big enough to make you obey whether ye want to or no’.” He crashed through the line of trees, stomped past the wounded men, and set her firmly in the wagon. “A skirmish is no place for a woman. I willna be responsible for you getting raped or killed.” That vulnerable look softened his hard features for a second. “I could tie you down, but then ye’d be no help to Archie. So what’ll it be, lass? Will you obey me or no?” He tried to intimidate her with his posture and size, bracketing her with his bare arms. It didn’t work. Rather, the sight of the succulent, hard mound of his exposed shoulder so close to her face made her wet her lips. His strong collarbones and sinewy neck glistened with sweat, and he smelled of pine and male exertion. Her libido jumped like a feisty poodle. Jeez Louise, Mel, get a grip. This is not a romance novel. He’s not your hero. The box got it wrong. The box was way out of line. “I need it,” she said, pleased her steady voice didn’t betray her attraction. “I have to go with you.” “I told you I’d look for whatever ye lust.” Lust. The antiquated word spoken in his deep voice did strange things to her tummy. It took a solid effort not to lick her lips in invitation as the word called to mind activities that most definitely related to wanting. Home, she reminded herself. She had to get home. “I don’t trust you to look as hard as I would. I’m coming with you.” “Where are your ropes, Archie?” he asked. “The woman refuses to stay put. I have no choice but to tie her to the wagon.” Several of the wounded men snickered. Archie said, “In the foot case there. And bring me some of yon dried moss before ye tie down your woman.” Your woman. The casual declaration made her stomach leap, and the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “She’s not mine,” Darcy growled as he opened the lid of a wooden chest in the wagon. To her horror, he removed a coil of rope. After tossing a yellowish clump in Archie’s direction, he came at her. Her libido disappeared with a poof. She hopped off the wagon, dodging hands that had no business being so quick, considering how large they were. “Don’t you dare tie me down! I’ve got to get that box. It’s my only hope to return home.” He lunged for her, catching her easily around the waist with his long arm, and plunking her back in the wagon. Libido was back. Her body thrilled at Darcy’s manhandling, though her muscles struggled against it. The thought of him tying her up in private might have some merit, but not in the middle of the forest with several strange men as witnesses. “Okay, okay,” she blurted as he looped the rope around one wrist. “I won’t follow you. Please don’t tie me. I’ll stay. I’ll help.” He paused to eye her suspiciously. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll stay here and make myself useful. As long as you promise to look for a rosewood box inlaid with white gold and about yea big.” She gestured with her hands, rope trailing from one wrist. “As long as you swear to look as though your life depends on it.” She held his gaze, hoping he was getting how important this was to her, hoping she could trust him. The circle of wounded men went quiet, waiting for his answer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly impatient to return to the skirmish, but he gave her his full attention and said, “I vow that if your cherished box is on that field, I will find it.

Well?” the guard who discovered me prompted. “I recognize her,” Saadi answered, staring directly at the woman. “She works for my sister as an errand girl.” I briefly closed my eyes in relief. Saadi waved the guard back to her post and issued an order to the man behind him to retrieve his cloak. When it was thrust into his hands, he escorted me back across the base, not speaking until we were out of earshot of those on patrol. “So, Rava has a message for me?” I shoved him unthinkingly, teasingly, and he laughed, jumping away. “You wanted to see me, remember?” I pointed out. “But you never picked a time or place!” “So you decided to do it for me. Fair enough, but I’m dying to know what you have in mind to do.” “I don’t have anything in mind.” We had reached the thoroughfare, and he chuckled. “You braved Cokyrian soldiers and the stronghold of the military base, but don’t have a thing in mind for us to do?” “That’s right,” I admitted, irritated that he was laughing at me. “Would you grow up please?” “Shaselle, there’s nothing ‘grown-up’ about what we’re doing. I assume you snuck away from home to see me, and I have a five o’clock call in the morning.” I came to a halt and turned to face him, my eyes issuing a challenge. “If you want to go back, feel free. Tell those soldiers that Rava just wanted to make sure her baby brother went to bed on time.” He grinned, enjoying my feisty responses, and smoothed his bronze hair forward, a habit I still found annoying. It also served to make my heart flutter. “Trust me, I’ve survived many a night without sleep.” He came closer, putting his hands on my hips, and I spontaneously leaned in to kiss him. He drew me close, his mouth more hungry than it had been in the barn, and a tingle ran from my lips to my toes. Then I pulled away, smiling mischievously, loving how reckless my actions were. He took my hand, kissing each of my fingers before tugging me down the street. “Come on, Shaselle.” “Where are we going?” Saadi didn’t answer, but led me in the direction of the Market District. As a Cokyrian solider on horseback trotted by, he pulled me into the shadows of a storefront, placing a finger upon his lips. “I’ve thought of something for us to do,” he whispered. “Since you came so unprepared.” Once more he took my hand, and I went with him blindly, happily, until we reached the shop from which I’d stolen fruit and wine when I’d run away from home. “What are you--?” He gave the door a strong kick, and I winced at the crack of the wood in the stillness. “Saadi!” I hissed, glancing around, expecting the mounted Cokyrian to come galloping back. He ignored me, pushing the door open. “Come on now. No errand girl of Rava’s would be such a coward!

a woman who knew how to be handled. A feisty redhead, just a pinch of nice inside a naughty-as-hell package.

I glared as I stood over him. "We all have skeletons, Henry Davenport." I flipped my wrist to reveal the symbol of the Wited Rose. "Some more than others.

He watched her now, peeling away from her great-aunts. Even with the fake smile, she was the most beautiful woman in the room, with her long dark hair, flawless skin, and wide green eyes. She was long-legged, with curves in all the right places. But that wasn’t why she’d dug so deeply under his skin. No, it was her feisty spirit that drew him most. The way her eyes sparked with emotion. The way she stood up for herself and those she cared about. Layla was flat-out amazing.

You there! What are you doing?” A sentry was approaching, her strides swift and purposeful. “Identify yourself!” She held a lantern close to me, and I squinted in the light, my heart thrumming loudly. On the chance that I could still pull off the charade, I attempted to mimic a Cokyrian accent. The inflection was subtle, but not terribly different from our own, and I hoped that guard would be none the wiser. “I was sent to deliver a message.” “And what message is that?” Her voice was skeptical and she laid a hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip. “The message is not for you.” The sentry laughed. “Get out of here, girl. I have no interest in arresting you. I’ll consider this an amusing part of my night duty as long as you don’t cause any trouble.” “The message is from Rava,” I tried again, my natural stubbornness overcoming my fear. “For her brother.” “Messages should be taken to the main building,” she pronounced, no longer confident that she should send me away. “Rava instructed me to deliver it to no one but Saadi. She said he would be in the officer’s barracks.” The woman deliberated, looking dubiously at me, although she ultimately decided in my favor. “Then I’ll take you to him. We’ll see what he has to say about this.” The sentry grabbed my arm and led me toward the building. There were two guards at its entrance, and she instructed one of them to fetch Saadi. Despite the coolness of the weather, I could feel myself sweating. If Saadi refused to come, I would be locked up and likely taken to Rava in the morning. But if he did come, how did I know he would be happy to see me? He might not approve of the game I was playing. Nausea roiled my stomach, and I glanced at the Cokyrians on each side of me, trying to decide if I should beat a hasty retreat. Too afraid of the consequences if I failed to get away, I waited, praying the fates would smile upon me. It wasn’t long before footfalls reached my ears, and the door to the barracks swung open. Saadi stood there in breeches and a loose, unlaced shirt, strapping on his weapons, obviously having been awakened. Would he be angry that I had disturbed his sleep? “Well?” the guard who discovered me prompted. “I recognize her,” Saadi answered, staring directly at the woman. “She works for my sister as an errand girl.” I briefly closed my eyes in relief. Saadi waved the guard back to her post and issued an order to the man behind him to retrieve his cloak. When it was thrust into his hands, he escorted me back across the base, not speaking until we were out of earshot of those on patrol. “So, Rava has a message for me?” I shoved him unthinkingly, teasingly, and he laughed, jumping away. “You wanted to see me, remember?” I pointed out. “But you never picked a time or place!” “So you decided to do it for me. Fair enough, but I’m dying to know what you have in mind to do.” “I don’t have anything in mind.” We had reached the thoroughfare, and he chuckled. “You braved Cokyrian soldiers and the stronghold of the military base, but don’t have a thing in mind for us to do?” “That’s right,” I admitted, irritated that he was laughing at me. “Would you grow up please?” “Shaselle, there’s nothing ‘grown-up’ about what we’re doing. I assume you snuck away from home to see me, and I have a five o’clock call in the morning.” I came to a halt and turned to face him, my eyes issuing a challenge. “If you want to go back, feel free. Tell those soldiers that Rava just wanted to make sure her baby brother went to bed on time.” He grinned, enjoying my feisty responses, and smoothed his bronze hair forward, a habit I still found annoying. It also served to make my heart flutter.

I SO wanted to go, but there was no way I could get to South Dakota in time. The fact that I was neither a feisty woman, nor a rural American, didn’t even enter my mind. Instead,

The ideal mate for an alpha female is a beta male who’s strong in his own right but who doesn’t need to assert himself in the way an alpha does. A beta male’s strength lies in his class and in his dignity. He’s fine being married to a strong-willed woman—in fact, he likes it—but he would never let her run all over him. He laughs and enjoys her feistiness, but he commands her respect. Moreover, he likes being her tamer. And she likes it, too.

Piers Morgan Piers Morgan is a British journalist best known for his editorial work for the Daily Mirror from 1995 through 2004. He is also a successful author and television personality whose recent credits include a recurring role as a judge on NBC’s America’s Got Talent. A controversial member of the tabloid press during Diana’s lifetime, Piers Morgan established a uniquely close relationship with the Princess during the 1990s. I mentioned I’d been in contact with her mother. “Oh crikey, that sounds dangerous!” “She’s a feisty woman, isn’t she?” William giggled. “Granny’s great fun after a few gin and tonics.” “Sh, William,” Diana said, giggling too. “My mother’s been a tremendous source of support to me. She never talks publicly; she’s just there for me.” “And what about William’s other granny?” “I have enormous respect for the Queen; she has been so supportive, you know. People don’t see that side of her, but I do all the time. She’s an amazing person.” “Has she been good over the divorce?” “Yes, very. I just want it over now so I can get on with my life. I’m worried about the attacks I will get afterward.” “What attacks?” “I just worry that people will try and knock me down once I am out on my own.” This seemed unduly paranoid. People adored her. I asked William how he was enjoying Eton. “Oh, it’s great, thanks.” “Do you think the press bother you much?” “Not the British press, actually. Though the European media can be quite annoying. They sit on the riverbank watching me rowing with their cameras, waiting for me to fall in! There are photographers everywhere if I go out. Normally loads of Japanese tourists taking pictures. All saying “Where’s Prince William?’ when I’m standing right next to them.” “How are the other boys with you?” “Very nice. Though a boy was expelled this week for taking ecstasy and snuff. Drugs are everywhere, and I think they’re stupid. I never get tempted.” “Does matron take any?” laughed Diana. “No, Mummy, it gives her hallucinations.” “What, like imagining you’re going to be king?” I said. They both giggled again. “Is it true you’ve got Pamela Anderson posters on your bedroom wall?” “No! And not Cindy Crawford, either. They did both come to tea at the palace, though, and were very nice.” William had been photographed the previous week at a party at the Hammersmith Palais, where he was mobbed by young girls. I asked him if he’d had fun. “Everyone in the press said I was snogging these girls, but I wasn’t,” he insisted. Diana laughed. “One said you stuck your tongue down her throat, William. Did you?” “No, I did not. Stop it, Mummy, please. It’s embarrassing.” He’d gone puce. It was a very funny exchange, with a flushed William finally insisting: “I won’t go to any more public parties; it was crazy. People wouldn’t leave me alone.” Diana laughed again. “All the girls love a nice prince.” I turned to more serious matters. “Do you think Charles will become king one day?” “I think he thinks he will,” replied Diana, “but I think he would be happier living in Tuscany or Provence, to be honest.” “And how are you these days--someone told me you’ve stopped seeing therapists?” “I have, yes. I stopped when I realized they needed more therapy than I did. I feel stronger now, but I am under so much pressure all the time. People don’t know what it’s like to be in the public eye, they really don’t.

His voice had a rough note to it as he said, “Tienes una chocha tan linda.” “What?” she mumbled behind her gag. “I said you have a beautiful pussy. And it is. Do you want me to suck on that pretty pussy?” She nodded vigorously and drew in a deep breath of anticipation as he rolled her over to her front. “If I untie your hands, do you promise to behave?” Giving him a pleading look she nodded again. “If you’re a bad girl I’ll just tie you up again and continue teasing you.” She tried to keep from glaring at him, but he must have noticed because he chuckled as he unbound her hands. <...>She smiled at him, feeling too good to fight. “I do.” He laughed and cuddled her close, his dick jumping inside of her when she involuntarily squeezed him. “Good God, woman, you’re going to kill me.” A giggle escaped her and she wondered at the light, happy sound. “Stop being such a whiner.” ''Mmm, feisty,” he gave her neck a sharp nip. “I like it.” “You won’t like it when I kill you for letting her touch you,” she grumped, but cuddled closer. “Why do you love me?” “Fishing for compliments?” she teased. “No…I just want to know why so I can keep doing whatever it is that makes you love me.” “Oh, baby,” she lifted her head to kiss his chin, the note of vulnerability in his voice touching her deeply. “Just be you. You’re the man I fell in love with. All of you. The UFC fighter, the businessman, the asshole—” “Hey now.” She shook her head against his chest. “Admit it, you can be an asshole.” “I plead the fifth.” “All of you,” she continued. “I love all of you.” He made a pleased sound and began to move inside of her again. The man must be snacking on Viagra because he seemed to have a permanent hard-on. His voice had a teasing tone as he said, “Do you love my dick?” Warm tingles raced through her and she licked at the slightly salty skin of his chest. “It’s one of my favorite parts.” “Hmmm, what are your other favorite parts?” Once again she wondered if he was fishing for compliments, but it occurred to her that he’d dated woman who always wanted something from him, not Dallas himself. “I love your lips because they kiss me, your hands because they touch me, but most of all I love your mind and your heart because they define who you are, a strong, smart, and compassionate man. My man.” His grunt made her smile as she continued to kiss her way across his chest as he moved slowly inside of her, a constant stroke that made her want to moan with pleasure. “My Amanda.” Kissing her way up to his lips, she whispered against his mouth, “Love you.” “Love you too, mi querida.

Fuck, she was feisty. I wasn’t a fan of attitude off a woman, but I couldn’t deny my dick was hard as hell. I’d have to fuck that feisty out of her and I doubted she’d surrender easily, if at all.

She was brave, taking on Grant all by herself. And she was gutsy and feisty, and she never gave up. A woman like that was worth keeping. Even if she did steal a vehicle or two. Nobody was perfect. Now

On the up side, the fruit of her “blackness” is a feisty independence that makes its presence felt throughout the poem. She tends her own garden, has her own freedom, and makes her own choices. In a world geared toward the silencing of women’s voices, her own voice speaks loud and clear.

If you are different in a small community, your difference is dressed up in kindliness and rendered acceptable, just like all that dreadful leftover pig-stuff gets dressed up in a skin and is called a sausage. Francis of Assiss was saintly because he was batty. I’m batty because I’m feisty. It’s better to be saintly than batty, better to be a batty woman than a feisty one.

What else did her mother tell you?” Ethan asked, looking for any advantage in his task of winning her over. “That she’d call us later and give us pointers on wooing her daughter. Apparently, Naomi has something of a stubborn nature.” A snort escaped him. “I hadn’t noticed.” Javier paced the living room as Ethan stroked Naomi’s silky hair, unable to resist running his fingers through the long brown strands. “What are you thinking?” “That fate is laughing at me.” A chuckle made Ethan’s chest vibrate, causing Naomi’s head to jiggle. He cradled her head in his big palm to prevent her from falling before replying. “She’s certainly not what either of us expected, that’s for sure.” Javier shot him a dark look. “No shit, Sherlock. I mean don’t get me wrong, short and curvy works fine for me, but I always expected, if ever fate was cruel enough to curse me, she’d at least give me a woman who likes me.” “I’m sure she will in time. We took her by surprise, not to mention she’s in pain. Besides, I kind of like that she’s feisty. She’ll need it to keep up with us.” Round eyes and an open mouth met his answer. “You, my friend, are insane. One ball too many to the head I think. I mean, not only does she not want you, shouldn’t you be more pissed that it looks like she’s meant for both of us?” Ethan shrugged. “I’ll admit, I never expected to share, but if fate says that’s my lot, then at least it chose someone I could tolerate. And beat in a wrestling match if I need to. Besides, I’ll only have to share if you bother to stick around to mark her.” “Oh, I’m staying, so you can forget about keeping her for yourself,” Javier replied shooting him a dark look. “What happened to I’m not meant for monogamy?” Ethan pitched his voice mockingly. A sigh emerged from Javier’s mouth before he slumped in the chair across from him. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. It’s hard to think at all with my damned cat yammering for me to bite her. Mayhap if you were to claim her first, the need for me to do so would vanish?” The optimism in his friend’s voice made him laugh again. “Sorry, no such luck I’m afraid. From everything I’ve ever heard, once you find the one, you’re done for. The need to mark her, claim her, just gets stronger and stronger.” Already the urge to take her rode Ethan hard. It didn’t help that he held her cuddled on his lap, her sweet fragrance tickling his nose while her lush body pressed against his turgid cock.

I could tie you down, but then ye’d be no help to Archie. So what’ll it be, lass? Will you obey me or no?” He tried to intimidate her with his posture and size, bracketing her with his bare arms. It didn’t work. Rather, the sight of the succulent, hard mound of his exposed shoulder so close to her face made her wet her lips. His strong collarbones and sinewy neck glistened with sweat, and he smelled of pine and male exertion. Her libido jumped like a feisty poodle. Jeez Louise, Mel, get a grip. This is not a romance novel. He’s not your hero. The box got it wrong. The box was way out of line. “I need it,” she said, pleased her steady voice didn’t betray her attraction. “I have to go with you.” “I told you I’d look for whatever ye lust.” Lust. The antiquated word spoken in his deep voice did strange things to her tummy. It took a solid effort not to lick her lips in invitation as the word called to mind activities that most definitely related to wanting. Home, she reminded herself. She had to get home. “I don’t trust you to look as hard as I would. I’m coming with you.” “Where are your ropes, Archie?” he asked. “The woman refuses to stay put. I have no choice but to tie her to the wagon.” Several of the wounded men snickered. Archie said, “In the foot case there. And bring me some of yon dried moss before ye tie down your woman.” Your woman. The casual declaration made her stomach leap, and the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “She’s not mine,” Darcy growled as he opened the lid of a wooden chest in the wagon. To her horror, he removed a coil of rope. After tossing a yellowish clump in Archie’s direction, he came at her. Her libido disappeared with a poof. She hopped off the wagon, dodging hands that had no business being so quick, considering how large they were. “Don’t you dare tie me down! I’ve got to get that box. It’s my only hope to return home.” He lunged for her, catching her easily around the waist with his long arm, and plunking her back in the wagon. Libido was back. Her body thrilled at Darcy’s manhandling, though her muscles struggled against it. The thought of him tying her up in private might have some merit, but not in the middle of the forest with several strange men as witnesses. “Okay, okay,” she blurted as he looped the rope around one wrist. “I won’t follow you. Please don’t tie me. I’ll stay. I’ll help.” He paused to eye her suspiciously. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll stay here and make myself useful. As long as you promise to look for a rosewood box inlaid with white gold and about yea big.” She gestured with her hands, rope trailing from one wrist. “As long as you swear to look as though your life depends on it.” She held his gaze, hoping he was getting how important this was to her, hoping she could trust him. The circle of wounded men went quiet, waiting for his answer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly impatient to return to the skirmish, but he gave her his full attention and said, “I vow that if your cherished box is on that field, I will find it.

When I read and watch Donald Trump shrug off or Twitter away that global warming is a hoax, his brushoffs don’t have the fire and passion of other things he off-handedly rejects. It’s a good sign recognizable to anyone loving Geminis in his or her life. I have a dear elder brother who’s an intellectually vibrant Gemini. I’ve also delved deep into the romantic and psychological depths with a lover born under the sign of “The Twins.” Thus from long and first-hand experience I contend that I can correctly sense the moment a Gemini’s stance on something is going void of course. There’s a little less feistiness. A tone of indifference grows. I can detect the subtle disengagement growing in Trump’s voice. If I’m not being fooled that there isn’t a new descent into deeper disinterest, the change in tone foreshadows a Gemini minded man or woman is about to shift gears

Every muscle in my goddamn body is a wire on the verge of snapping, and the cut that she sliced into my chest seconds ago stings and throbs as blood drips down onto the floor. She got me good in the balls, too. And fuck, I’ve never been so turned on in my life. My lass is a feisty little thing. “Good God, woman,” I groan. “That was phenomenal.

Caitlin, I proposed to you at Disneyland, the Happiest Place on Earth, because I knew that marrying you would make me the Happiest Man on Earth. “You are every Disney princess wrapped up into one woman: “You have Snow White’s gentle compassion for others; “Cinderella’s strength to overcome hard times and emerge as the belle of the ball; “Ariel’s wit and feistiness; “Princess Jasmine’s flashing dark eyes; “The gorgeous tumbling hair of Rapunzel; “The adventurous spirit of Pocahontas; “And Belle’s ability to see the beauty in this Beast.

Lilly Samson, The Switch, Outtakes & Quotes, shameless manipulation of. A one minute reading test I am dog --Dog, Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans, 2007 Allergies disclaimer: One must stress that this book is not intended for the unwashed masses: I delayed showering after the last switch. I’ve created a Pavlovian response: he must associate its floral sweetness with sexual fulfilment. Adam has a “Pavlovian” reaction to Elena’s BO? Bribes her with cake to lessen the wrath when asking Elena to wash? He frowns, seeing that I’m silent and trembling. ‘My perfume was weak; hers much stronger.’ I say, my temper flaring. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the usual wasteman chatting up yours truly in Sarf London would probably assume that a big phat slice of Marks & Spencer’s Strawberry Pavlova will get him into the lady’s knickers. Nope, she’s allergic to stupid. A merengue dessert will hardly cause a rash, but a moron makes her skin crawl. A female of the human species displayed an unconditioned response: shoved cream cake into the courting male’s face. Requested a substantial meal of Shchavel Borscht with hard boiled egg --Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Russian Cookbook for Love, Romance, and mating behaviours: Humans, 1904 Ding-dong! --Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, Neutral Triggers & Conditioned Responses: Canines, 1907 It is I! I make the best Byzantine shchi to entice a female. --Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, Dead Souls, Notebook (1841-1844), The Nose and other short stories Right! She turned her nose up at his advances. Idiot! I hate strawberries! The lady did not have a sweet tooth. Man didn’t do his research. This is a cleverly written book. So some of you, keen aspiring readers, please have your Oxford fictionary handy. Just saying! In the words of our hero: Bloody pricey...But God, it is a nice smell. Don’t you like it? And then he “squirts onto her wrist, playfully.” Shhhh.. Doctors Pavlov & Chekhov are not amused. Shall we shuffle the deck with these random quotes? One minute! Plenty of time is a full minute for a skilled bullshit dealer to shuffle themselves out of a gloomy Russian medical clerical predicament. Not tricky when Lily Samson gives treats: All around us are dog walkers, their expensive breeds racing about, barking and sniffing each other’s genitals. ..thinking it all through those awful dog ornaments she hated... feisty feminist...she simply hates them. Men are so stupid! And then.. She took another whiff and yet another. She sniffed him up and down like a dog before realizing what it was: the aroma of a woman’s cunt. --Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lilly Samson, The Switch, Outtakes & Quotes, shameless manipulation of. A one minute reading test I am dog --Dog, Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans, 2007 Allergies disclaimer: One must stress that this book is not intended for the unwashed masses: I delayed showering after the last switch. I’ve created a Pavlovian response: he must associate its floral sweetness with sexual fulfilment. Adam has a “Pavlovian” reaction to Elena’s BO? Bribes her with cake to lessen the wrath when asking Elena to wash? He frowns, seeing that I’m silent and trembling. ‘My perfume was weak; hers much stronger.’ I say, my temper flaring. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the usual wasteman chatting up yours truly in Sarf London would probably assume that a big phat slice of Marks & Spencer’s Strawberry Pavlova will get him into the lady’s knickers. Nope, she’s allergic to stupid. A merengue dessert will hardly cause a rash, but a moron makes her skin crawl. A female of the human species displayed an unconditioned response: shoved cream cake into the courting male’s face. Requested a substantial meal of Shchavel Borscht with hard boiled egg --Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Russian Cookbook for Love, Romance, and mating behaviours: Humans, 1904 Ding-dong! --Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, Neutral Triggers & Conditioned Responses: Canines, 1907 It is I! I make the best Byzantine shchi to entice a female. --Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, Dead Souls, Notebook (1841-1844), The Nose and other short stories Right! She turned her nose up at his advances. Idiot! I hate strawberries! The lady did not have a sweet tooth. Man didn’t do his research. This is a cleverly written book. So some of you, keen aspiring readers, please have your Oxford fictionary handy. Just saying! In the words of our hero: Bloody pricey...But God, it is a nice smell. Don’t you like it? And then he “squirts onto her wrist, playfully.” Shhhh.. Doctors Pavlov & Chekhov are not amused. Shall we shuffle the deck with these random quotes? One minute! Plenty of time is a full minute for a skilled bullshit dealer to shuffle themselves out of a gloomy Russian medical clerical predicament. Not tricky when Lily Samson gives treats: All around us are dog walkers, their expensive breeds racing about, barking and sniffing each other’s genitals. ..thinking it all through those awful dog ornaments she hated... feisty feminist...she simply hates them. Men are so stupid! And then.. She took another whiff and yet another. She sniffed him up and down like a dog before realizing what it was: the aroma of a woman’s cunt. --Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lilly Samson, The Switch, Outtakes & Quotes, shameless manipulation of. A one minute reading test I am dog --Dog, Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans, 2007 Allergies disclaimer: One must stress that this book is not intended for the unwashed masses: I delayed showering after the last switch. I’ve created a Pavlovian response: he must associate its floral sweetness with sexual fulfilment. Adam has a “Pavlovian” reaction to Elena’s BO? Bribes her with cake to lessen the wrath when asking Elena to wash? He frowns, seeing that I’m silent and trembling. ‘My perfume was weak; hers much stronger.’ I say, my temper flaring. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the usual wasteman chatting up yours truly in Sarf London would probably assume that a big phat slice of Marks & Spencer’s Strawberry Pavlova will get him into the lady’s knickers. Nope, she’s allergic to stupid. A merengue dessert will hardly cause a rash, but a moron makes her skin crawl. A female of the human species displayed an unconditioned response: shoved cream cake into the courting male’s face. Requested a substantial meal of Shchavel Borscht with hard boiled egg --Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Russian Cookbook for Love, Romance, and mating behaviours: Humans, 1904 Ding-dong! --Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, Neutral Triggers & Conditioned Responses: Canines1907 It is I! I make the best Byzantine shchi to entice a female. --Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, Dead Souls, Notebook (1841-1844), The Nose and other short stories Right! She turned her nose up at his advances. Idiot! I hate strawberries! The lady did not have a sweet tooth. Man didn’t do his research. This is a cleverly written book. So some of you, keen aspiring readers, please have your Oxford fictionary handy. Just saying! In the words of our hero: Bloody pricey...But God, it is a nice smell. Don’t you like it? And then he “squirts onto her wrist, playfully.” Shhhh.. Doctors Pavlov & Chekhov are not amused. Shall we shuffle the deck with these random quotes? One minute! Plenty of time is a full minute for a skilled bullshit dealer to shuffle themselves out of a gloomy Russian medical clerical predicament. Not tricky when Lily Samson gives treats: All around us are dog walkers, their expensive breeds racing about, barking and sniffing each other’s genitals. ..thinking it all through those awful dog ornaments she hated... feisty feminist...she simply hates them. Men are so stupid! She took another whiff and yet another. She sniffed him up and down like a dog before realizing what it was: the aroma of a woman’s cunt --Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lilly Samson, The Switch, Outtakes & Quotes, shameless manipulation of. A one minute reading test I am dog --Dog, Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans, 2007 Allergies disclaimer: One must stress that this book is not intended for the unwashed masses: I delayed showering after the last switch. I’ve created a Pavlovian response: he must associate its floral sweetness with sexual fulfilment. Adam has a “Pavlovian” reaction to Elena’s BO? Bribes her with cake to lessen the wrath when asking Elena to wash? He frowns, seeing that I’m silent and trembling. ‘My perfume was weak; hers much stronger.’ I say, my temper flaring. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the usual wasteman chatting up yours truly in Sarf London would probably assume that a big phat slice of Marks & Spencer’s Strawberry Pavlova will get him into the lady’s knickers. Nope, she’s allergic to stupid. A merengue dessert will hardly cause a rash, but a moron makes her skin crawl. A female of the human species displayed an unconditioned response: shoved cream cake into the courting male’s face. Requested a substantial meal of Shchavel Borscht with hard boiled egg --Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Russian Cookbook for Love, Romance, and mating behaviours: Humans, 1904 Ding-dong! --Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, Neutral Triggers & Conditioned Responses: Canines, 1907 It is I! I make the best Byzantine shchi to entice a female. --Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, Dead Souls, Notebook (1841-1844), The Nose and other short stories Right! She turned her nose up at his advances. Idiot! I hate strawberries! --Seraphima Vasilievna Karchevskaya Pavlova, Mrs, My Husband and I – Memoirs The lady did not have a sweet tooth. Man didn’t do his research. This is a cleverly written book. So some of you, keen aspiring readers, please have your Oxford fictionary handy. Just saying! In the words of our hero: Bloody pricey...But God, it is a nice smell. Don’t you like it? And then he “squirts onto her wrist, playfully.” Shhhh.. Doctors Pavlov & Chekhov are not amused. Shall we shuffle the deck with these random quotes? One minute! Plenty of time is a full minute for a skilled bullshit dealer to shuffle themselves out of a gloomy Russian medical clerical predicament. Not tricky when Lily Samson gives treats: All around us are dog walkers, their expensive breeds racing about, barking and sniffing each other’s genitals. ..thinking it all through those awful dog ornaments she hated... feisty feminist...she simply hates them. Men are so stupid! And then.. She took another whiff and yet another. She sniffed him up and down like a dog before realizing what it was: the aroma of a woman’s cunt. --Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lily Samson, The Switch, Outtakes & Quotes, shameless manipulation of. A one minute reading test I am dog --Dog, Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans, 2007 Allergies disclaimer: One must stress that this book is not intended for the unwashed masses: I delayed showering after the last switch. I’ve created a Pavlovian response: he must associate its floral sweetness with sexual fulfilment. Adam has a “Pavlovian” reaction to Elena’s BO? Bribes her with cake to lessen the wrath when asking Elena to wash? He frowns, seeing that I’m silent and trembling. ‘My perfume was weak; hers much stronger.’ I say, my temper flaring. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the usual wasteman chatting up yours truly in Sarf London would probably assume that a big phat slice of Marks & Spencer’s Strawberry Pavlova will get him into the lady’s knickers. Nope, she’s allergic to stupid. A merengue dessert will hardly cause a rash, but a moron makes her skin crawl. A female of the human species displayed an unconditioned response: shoved cream cake into the courting male’s face. Requested a substantial meal of Shchavel Borscht with hard boiled egg --Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Russian Cookbook for Love, Romance, and mating behaviours: Humans, 1904 Ding-dong! --Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, Neutral Triggers & Conditioned Responses: Canines, 1907 It is I! I make the best Byzantine shchi to entice a female. --Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, Dead Souls, Notebook (1841-1844), The Nose and other short stories Right! She turned her nose up at his advances: Idiot! I hate strawberries! --Seraphima Vasilievna Karchevskaya Pavlova, Mrs, My Husband and I – Memoirs The lady did not have a sweet tooth. Man didn’t do his research. This is a cleverly written book. So some of you, keen aspiring readers, please have your Oxford fictionary handy. Just saying! In the words of our hero: Bloody pricey...But God, it is a nice smell. Don’t you like it? And then he “squirts onto her wrist, playfully.” Shhhh.. Doctors Pavlov & Chekhov are not amused. Shall we shuffle the deck with these random quotes? One minute! Plenty of time is a full minute for a skilled bullshit dealer to shuffle themselves out of a gloomy Russian medical clerical predicament. Not tricky when Lily Samson gives treats: All around us are dog walkers, their expensive breeds racing about, barking and sniffing each other’s genitals. ..thinking it all through those awful dog ornaments she hated... feisty feminist...she simply hates them. Men are so stupid! And then.. She took another whiff and yet another. She sniffed him up and down like a dog before realizing what it was: the aroma of a woman’s cunt. --Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being Gratuitous use of one particular French vulgarism nested in the English language since the Norman conquest of 1066 is well demonstrated by this Milan Kundera translation. One has to wonder if the original 1984 edition contained the word “pizda”? It is one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock. --Scholar Germaine Greer But of course a cunt, in French, as much as el coño in Spanish does not carry near enough as much uncouth weight as in English. The English language doesn’t exist. It’s just badly pronounced French. --Bernard Cerquiglini Quelle conne! Un con reste un con! --William Shakespeare, Last Words, Holy Trinity Church, Gropecunt Lane, Stratford upon Avon, April 23rd 1616