Quotes about Men

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Man is not the enemy here, but the fellow victim.

Unlike femininity, relaxed masculinity is at bottom empty, a limp nullity. While the female body is full of internal potentiality, the male is internally barren. Manhood at the most basic level can be validated and expressed only in action.
I mean to make myself a man, and if I succeed in that, I shall succeed in everything else.
The tragedy of machismo is that a man is never quite man enough.
The test of man is how well he is able to feel about what he thinks. The test of a woman is how well she is able to think about what she feels.
The most unhappy and frail creatures are men and yet they are the proudest.
Men are nicotine soaked, beer besmirched, whiskey greased, red-eyed devils.
A woman simply is, but a man must become. Masculinity is risky and elusive. It is achieved by a revolt from woman, and it is confirmed only by other men. Manhood coerced into sensitivity is no manhood at all.
Men dream of courtship, but in wedlock wake.
He may have hair upon his chest but, sister, so has Lassie.
Man is the only animal of which I am thoroughly and cravenly afraid of.
All men are two meters tall... give or take a meter.
The Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of our whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says.
Well I guess Good men are just hard to find! Maybe they are all on one Boat! If I run across it, Imma hold'em hostage!
Men are not to be told anything they might find too painful; the secret depths of human nature, the sordid physicalities, might overwhelm or damage them. For instance, men often faint at the sight of their own blood, to which they are not accustomed. For this reason you should never stand behind one in the line at the Red Cross donor clinic.
The masculine imagination lives in a state of perpetual revolt against the limitations of human life. In theological terms, one might say that all men, left to themselves, become gnostics. They may swagger like peacocks, but in their heart of hearts they all think sex an indignity and wish they could beget themselves on themselves. Hence the aggressive hostility toward women so manifest in most club-car stories.
Men's private self-worlds are rather like our geographical world's seasons, storm, and sun, deserts, oases, mountains and abysses, the endless-seeming plateaus, darkness and light, and always the sowing and the reaping.
The question arises as to whether it is possible not to live in the world of men and still to live in the world.
Some men are like nails, very easily drawn; others however are more like rivets never drawn at all.
The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.
Bloody men are like bloody buses -- you wait for about a year and as soon as one approaches your stop two or three others appear.
Because it is in the nature of things that they become extreme, we have passed down from manliness to cruelty. If I had been told when I was 20 that there was a tavern in the town where the brave and the cruel were gathered together, I would have run all the way and I would have gone up to the largest and leatheriest of the denizens and said: If you truly love me, kill the bartender.
Only when manhood is dead -- and it will perish when ravaged femininity no longer sustains it -- only then will we know what it is to be free.
Considering the absence of legal coercion, the surprising thing is that men have for so long, and, on the whole, so reliably, adhered to what we might call the breadwinner ethic.
Men's men: gentle or simple, they're much of a muchness.
Men cease to interest us when we find their limitations.
Providing for one's family as a good husband and father is a water-tight excuse for making money hand over fist. Greed may be a sin, exploitation of other people might, on the face of it, look rather nasty, but who can blame a man for doing the best for his children?
The world men inhabit is rather bleak. It is a world full of doubt and confusion, where vulnerability must be hidden, not shared; where competition, not co-operation, is the order of the day; where men sacrifice the possibility of knowing their own children and sharing in their upbringing, for the sake of a job they may have chosen by chance, which may not suit them and which in many cases dominates their lives to the exclusion of much else.
Some men demand rough treatment everywhere!
A man is in love when something in his head, something in his and chest and something in his pants react to a certain woman.
A hairy body, and arms stiff with bristles, give promise of a manly soul.
All men are homosexual, some turn straight. It must be very odd to be a straight man because your sexuality is hopelessly defensive. It's like an ideal of racial purity.
During the feminist seventies men were caught between a rock and a hard-on; in the fathering eighties they are caught between good hugs and bad hugs.
There are three classes of men; the retrograde, the stationary and the progressive.
How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.
Men were only made into men with great difficulty even in primitive society: the male is not naturally a man any more than the woman. He has to be propped up into that position with some ingenuity, and is always likely to collapse.
The male has been persuaded to assume a certain onerous and disagreeable role with the promise of rewards -- material and psychological. Women may in the first place even have put it into his head. BE A MAN! may have been, metaphorically, what Eve uttered at the critical moment in the garden of Eden.
The male sex still constitute in many ways the most obstinate vested interest one can find.
Masculinity is not something given to you, but something you gain. And you gain it by winning small battles with honor.
Men are creatures with eight hands.

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