women!

Women walk west on wet water.

I will trade you 12 fine oxen for all the women in this village.

women are what you get when you water girls and feed them with a good mixed mulch of cosmopolitan magazine and trouser suits.

I've got ninety-nine women and not a problem with one.

Women swimmin'.

My voice breaks when I say I love you, and it is like sending out my words as little boys and having them return, not as men, but as women, sadly not as robust as I might have intended, but, having lost none of their youthful fragility, they sing out stronger in the quiet.

(where the frack did THAT come from?)

It was more than he could bear, more than most young men could, really; the shiny raspberry lips, the crooked smile, the gentle flip of the hair as she turned to leave, and the vapor trail of perfume or shampoo or what, left him too dizzy, growing a crooked smile of his own, unable to process a single thought other than this: Women.

(absurd quote from a customer i was working with last week:) "computers are like women - useless."

Women: the evergreen strobili clustered closely above men's deciduous hearts.

Women are enough.

after Bill Callahan/Smog
Women need men or women to be women

"Begone, pandar, here are no women for coining."

Oh, Women.

I shuddered violently at the sound of those women in me, who sing for hours loudly from under my ribs

With their words of wisdom and swaddling wombs, women are the wardens to the world.

Skip town today for country livin',
But back tonight for whiskey and women.

My sister and I are women.

The women of the court wept at the news - pearl brooches of unfathomable preciousness sent skittering across the floor; every single gold-laced dress, wet from tears, torn apart like tissue paper - yet, according to the surviving accounts of those few bewildered onlookers, the combined effect of the sound bore more resemblance to laughter than grief.

At least I reminded you of one the simplest things in life: women are like castanets; only Spaniards can hold them, but they still make you dance.

Of all the pretty women passing through town it is the one who fills the streets with her own melody as her heels click against the foot path she walks along that I want to come knocking at my front door asking for directions to where she is going.

I’m a sucker for women with short hair, especially hers because it’s messy but still neat, like she spent all morning trying to get it to curl just right so it mimics someone mussing it up with their fingers without actually having to do it, but, if called upon, I’d do it.

Men are looking like women and women like men so it's hard tellin' who I am today.

They spun in the rain for hours, remembering those hot sticky days of popsicles and pools, when frogs were friends, when girls could be boys or girls and no one was there to scold, "WOMEN!" and force them to remember their place.

His father had once told him (in a rambling, uncomfortable conversation that was indicative of their relationship) that he could not count himself a man of any standing until he had learned to understand this: the breaking of the heart itself is encapsulated within the laughter of women.

Ambushed on the futon watching television -- Women's Entertainment network -- the kidnappers with ugly scarves and tailored suits pristine and intimidating, hoisting guns up angled either at me or through me, not that it makes a difference.

Whenever the women would wander in the wood, the men would wait with baited breath for when women would return.

I think women are pretty neat.

From the highest widow's walk in the village, the women hummed lullabies to their sailors and dreamed of other aphrodisiacs.

From the highest widow's walk in the village, the women hummed lullabies for their sailors and dreamed of other aphrodisiacs.

Out of all the aforementioned contenders, it is apparent that women breathe the deepest.

Put these words together: bearcub, women, nonsense, pirates, roller disco. Now go.

"our conversation last night reminded me, once again, that I am a women."

When it rains here, the women go out onto rooftops to take clothes off lines, while the men - who were squatting in empty lots below - move their fires under trees.

Women poisoned the city aquarium.

O men, we women can hear your hearts.

Women inspire art.

I thumb their plums in the corner like Jack Horner!
What a good girl am .

I thumb their plums in the corner like Jack Horner!
What a good girl am I.