As Angelo Discovered In Measure For Measure,

A Woman Is Never So Happy As When She Is Being Wooed. Then She Is Mistress Of All She Surveys, The Cynosure Of All Eyes, Until That Day Of Days When She Sails Down The Aisle, A Vision In White, Lovely As The Stefanotis She Carries, Borne Translucent On Her Father's Manly Arm To Be Handed Over To Her New Father-surrogate. If She Is Clever, And If Her Husband Has The Time And The Resources, She Will Insist On Being Wooed All Her Life; More Likely She Will Discover That Marriage Is Not Romantic, That Husbands Forget Birthdays And Aniversaries And Seldom Pay Compliments, Are Often Perfunctory.

There Have Been Women In The Past Far More Daring Than We Would Need To Be Now, Who Ventured All And Gained A Little, But Survived After All.

Women Who Were Housewives, Who Were Pretty Miserable ... Felt Inspired By Her Book And Their Life Changed. They Didn't Become Megastars, But They Became A Librarian Or Something. I've Heard Women Say Again And Again When The Subject Of Germaine Comes Up: 'well, Her Book Changed My Life For The Better.' And They'll Be Modest Women Living Pretty Ordinary Lives, But Better Lives.

Yet If A Woman Never Lets Herself Go, How Will She Ever Know How Far She Might Have Got? If She Never Takes Off Her High-heeled Shoes, How Will She Ever Know How Far She Could Walk Or How Fast She Could Run?

If The Present Economic Structure Can Change Only By Collapsing, Then It Had Better Collapse As Soon As Possible.