Quotes by Author
Quotes by Topic
Images
Contact Us

Table For Change Website

Inspirational Quotes

Quotes by Author
Quotes by Topic
Images
Contact Us

Home Fears Don’t let the fear of striking out hold you back.

FearsInspirational Quotes

Don’t let the fear of striking out hold you back.

Polly, May 23, 2013

442

Pinterest Google Flipboard

Tags : Babe Ruth

The best way out is always through.

Previous Article

It is always the simple that produces the marvelous.

Polly

Related Articles

Kids don’t lack capacity, only teachers.

Kids don’t lack capacity, only teachers.

The poorest man of all is the man with nothing to do.

The poorest man of all is the man with nothing to do.

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.

We don’t see things as they are; we see things as we are.

We don’t see things as they are; we see things as we are.

There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to writ

There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to writ

Get Connected

27.1K

Followers

0

Followers

0

Followers

0

Followers

0

Followers

© Copyright Table For Change| All Rights Reserved | Website Design by Exposure By Design