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Home Inspirational Quotes Success is a science; if you have the conditions, you get the result.

Inspirational QuotesSuccess

Success is a science; if you have the conditions, you get the result.

Polly, May 23, 2013

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Tags : Oscar Wilde

Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get.

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Frustration, although quite painful at times, is a very positive and essential part of success.

Polly

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There’s that unwritten schism that literary writers get all the awards and commercials writers get all the success.

There’s that unwritten schism that literary writers get all the awards and commercials writers get all the success.

In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love

In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love

There are books showing men how to succeed in everything: they are written by men who cannot even succeed in writing.

There are books showing men how to succeed in everything: they are written by men who cannot even succeed in writing.

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.

You are always free to change your mind and choose a different future, or a different past.

You are always free to change your mind and choose a different future, or a different past.

The more I see of men, the more I admire dogs.

The more I see of men, the more I admire dogs.

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