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Home Individuality Too many people blow the present by worrying about the future. I just let it happen.

IndividualityIt's up to meSports Quotes

Too many people blow the present by worrying about the future. I just let it happen.

Polly, February 6, 2013

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I have always felt a league responsibility as well as a team responsibility.

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Most people prefer to be destroyed by praise rather than by criticism.

Polly

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One is never so happy or so unhappy as one thinks.

One is never so happy or so unhappy as one thinks.

I wrote what I wrote because I believe it. If you got complaints let me hear them. If you want better stories – win some games.

I wrote what I wrote because I believe it. If you got complaints let me hear them. If you want better stories – win some games.

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.

There are some things you don’t have to know how it works. The main thing is that it works. While some people are studing the roots, others are picking the fruit. It just depends which end of this you want to get in on.

There are some things you don’t have to know how it works. The main thing is that it works. While some people are studing the roots, others are picking the fruit. It just depends which end of this you want to get in on.

Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all — the apathy of human beings.

Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all — the apathy of human beings.

Within each of us there is another whom we do not know.

Within each of us there is another whom we do not know.

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