Men aren't the way they are because they want to drive women crazy; they've been trained to be that way for thousands of years. And that training makes it very difficult for men to be intimate.

A true man hates no one.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

Men always talk about the most important things to perfect strangers. In the perfect stranger we perceive man himself; the image of a God is not disguised by resemblances to an uncle or doubts of wisdom of a mustache.

In this society, the norm of masculinity is phallic aggression. Male sexuality is, by definition, intensely and rigidly phallic. A man's identity is located in his conception of himself as the possessor of a phallus; a man's worth is located in his pride in phallic identity. The main characteristic of phallic identity is that worth is entirely contingent on the possession of a phallus. Since men have no other criteria for worth, no other notion of identity, those who do not have phalluses are not recognized as fully human.

Men's men: gentle or simple, they're much of a muchness.

Men cease to interest us when we find their limitations.

There must be some reason why a man must be convinced, while a woman must be persuaded.

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.

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

Some men demand rough treatment everywhere!

There are three classes of men; the retrograde, the stationary and the progressive.

Men are creatures with eight hands.

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.

Men are nicotine soaked, beer besmirched, whiskey greased, red-eyed devils.

I love the male body, it's better designed than the male mind.

Men know they are sexual exiles. They wander the earth seeking satisfaction, craving and despising, never content. There is nothing in that anguished motion for women to envy.

It is a man's world, and you men can have it.

Most men act so tough and strong on the outside because on the inside, we are scared, weak, and fragile. Men, not women, are the weaker sex.

Not only is it harder to be a man, it is also harder to become one.

Men are happy to be laughed at for their humor, but not for their folly.

I go for two kinds of men. The kind with muscles, and the kind without.

How dwarfed against his manliness she sees the poor pretension, the wants, the aims, the follies, born of fashion and convention!

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.