Lizzy

“Liza hated alcoholic liquors with an iron zeal. Drinking alcohol in any form she regarded as a crime against a properly outraged deity. Not only would she not touch it herself, but she resisted its enjoyment by anyone else. The result, naturally, was that her husband Samuel and all her children had a good lusty love for a drink.
Once when he was very ill Samuel asked, "Liza, couldn't I have a glass of whisky to ease me?"
She set her little hard chin. "Would you go to the throne of God with liquor on your breath? You would not!" she said.
Samuel rolled over on his side and went about his illness without ease.
When Liza was about seventy her elimination slowed up and the doctor told her to take a tablespoon of port wine for medicine. She forced down the first spoonful, making a crooked face, but it was not so bad. And from that moment she never drew a completely sober breath. She always took the wine in a tablespoon, it was always medicine, but after a time she was doing over a quart a day and she was a much more relaxed and happy woman.”
― john steinbeck, East of Eden

“What advances?” Malcolm said irritably. “The number of hours women devote to housework has not changed since 1930, despite all the advances. All the vacuum cleaners, washer-dryers, trash compactors, garbage disposals, wash-and-wear fabrics … Why does it still take as long to clean the house as it did in 1930?”
Ellie said nothing.
“Because there haven’t been any advances,” Malcolm said. “Not really. Thirty thousand years ago; when men were doing cave paintings at Lascaux, they worked twenty hours a week to provide themselves with food and shelter and clothing. The rest of the time, they could play, or sleep, or do whatever they wanted. And they lived in a natural world, with clean air, clean water, beautiful trees and sunsets. Think about it. Twenty hours a week. Thirty thousand years ago.”
― Michael Crichton , Jurassic Park

“One day Samuel strained his back lifting a bale of hay, and it hurt his feelings more than his back, for he could not imagine a life in which Sam Hamilton was not privileged to lift a bale of hay. He felt insulted by his back, almost as he would have been if one of his children had been dishonest.
In King City, Dr. Tilson felt him over. The doctor grew more testy with his overworked years.
"You sprained your back."
"That I did," said Samuel.
"And you drove all the way in to have me tell you that you sprained your back and charge you two dollars?"
"Here's your two dollars."
"And you want to know what to do about it?"
"Sure I do."
"Don't sprain it any more. Now tak your money back. You're not a fool, Samuel, unless you're getting childish."
"But it hurts."
"Of course it hurts. How would you know it was strained if it didn't?"
Samuel laughed. "You're good for me," he said. "You're more than two dollars good for me. Keep the money."
The doctor looked closely at him. "I think you're telling the truth, Samuel. I'll keep the money.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“But a woman raising her children is not only shaping the next generation, she is also shaping little humans who are going to live forever. The souls she gave birth to are immortal. Immortal. And somehow, our culture looks at a woman who treats that as if it might be an important task and says, “It’s a shame she’s wasting herself. She could be doing something important—like filing paperwork for insurance claims.”
― Rebekah Merkle, Eve in Exile and the Restoration of Femininity