I Dream That Love Without Tyranny Is

Feminist Art Is Not Some Tiny Creek Running Off The Great River Of Real Art. It Is Not Some Crack In An Otherwise Flawless Stone. It Is, Quite Spectacularly, Art Which Is Not Based On The Subjugation Of One Half Of The Species.

The Creative Mind Is Intelligence In Action In The World.

Any Man Will Follow Any Feminine Looking Thing Down Any Dark Alley; I've Always Wanted To See A Man Beaten To A Shit Bloody Pulp With A High-heeled Shoe Stuffed Up His Mouth, Sort Of The Pig With The Apple; It Would Be Good To Put Him On A Serving Plate But You'd Need Good Silver.

How Can Anyone Love Someone Who Is Less Than A Full Person, Unless Love Itself Is Domination Per Se?

For A Mother The Project Of Raising A Boy Is The Most Fulfilling Project She Can Hope For. She Can Watch Him, As A Child, Play The Games She Was Not Allowed To Play; She Can Invest In Him Her Ideas, Aspirations, Ambitions, And Values - Or Whatever She Has Left Of Them; She Can Watch Her Son, Who Came From Her Flesh And Whose Life Was Sustained By Her Work And Devotion, Embody Her In The World. So While The Project Of Raising A Boy Is Fraught With Ambivalence And Leads Inevitably To Bitterness, It Is The Only Project That Allows A Woman To Be - To Be Through Her Son, To Live Through Her Son.