Mina Richards

“Many of us, the children of middle-class Manila, were fed on Catholic guilt and raised under the bright sun of the American dream. We went to church. We went to school. We recited the rosary every night and ate no meat on Good Friday. We hung tinsel on plastic Christmas trees, studied John Steinbeck, memorized the beatitudes, and measured our skirts a polite three inches below the knees. Money was tight, but there were books. When my mother’s girlhood collection ran out, she sent me to my grandfather and his numbered bookshelves. I lived for most of my adolescence on rafts floating down the Mississippi, inside little houses on prairies, and around wood fires in the New England and Chicago and London of my imagination. I was Meg Murry. I was Jo March. I was Scout and Mowgli and Anne Shirley and Lyra Silvertongue and for one glorious summer Sherlock Holmes, with my father playing my indulgent Watson. My”
― Patricia Evangelista, Some People Need Killing

“Men who find solace only in other men are to be distrusted,” Castor told Clytemnestra and Helen one morning as they were watching Theseus and Pirithous fight in the gymnasium. “They don’t respect anyone else, let alone a woman.”
― Costanza Casati, Clytemnestra

“I hate you, too,” he whispered, his mouth hovering right above mine, his body sinking deeper and deeper into me. “I hate you cuz I wanna get bored with you, but I can’t. I hate you cuz I wanna get tired of yo’ pussy, but I can’t. I hate you cuz I wanna feel annoyed when you say my name, but I can’t. I hate you cuz my muhfuckin’ dick wouldn’t even work because she didn’t smell right or feel right or sound right.”
― Elle Kayson, Demon's Dream

“When men tell you they are pieces of shit, when they tell you they are scumbags, they do it because they subconsciously know that you are hooked. It hooks you more. They push you away to pull you in and the most terrible thing is they don't even do it on purpose.”
― Lisa Taddeo, Animal