That book was my opportunity to tell my story. The story about a young girl who always dreamed of growing up to be powerful and respected, just like her father. But as it turns out, I have always lacked the requisite hardware because nobody cares what a woman has to say as long as there's a man willing to give his two cents.
Lap — one of the most important organs of the female system — an admirable provision of nature for the repose of infancy, but chiefly useful in rural festivities to support plates of cold chicken and heads of adult males. The male of our species has a rudimentary lap, imperfectly developed and in no way contributing to the animal's substantial welfare.
What I can tell you is this. Courage on the field doesn't mean shit unless you have the courage to stand up to each other when you're being fucking dicks. Or when you're bragging that hot chick you were banging last night. Or calling us "lady" like you're a gentleman, but really, you're just trying to diminish us. Standing up to that kind of bullshit, that's what it means to be a man.
Courbé par le travail ou par la destinée,
L'homme à sa voix s'élève et son front s'éclaircit;
Toujours impatient dans sa course bornée,
Un sourire le dompte et son coeur s'adoucit.
— You know, you're kind of pretty for a stuntman.
— That's what they tell me.
Demons run when a good man goes to war
Night will fall and drown the sun
When a good man goes to war
Friendship dies and true love lies
Night will fall and the dark will rise
When a good man goes to war
Demons run, but count the cost
The battle's won, but the child is lost
The fight goes on but what’s it for
When a good man goes to war
Now rise the sun, now dawn the day
When good man run and women stay
When battle’s done and nothing’s won
It’s a woman’s work to say
Well then, soldier, how goes the day?
— One man should be here.
— You're right, Pol. Freddie should be here.
— Is that a heartbeat I hear inside that chest?
— The truce lasts until sunrise.
Explanation:
When Thomas' younger sister was giving birth, Polly asked one of the men to stay, for protection Thomas allowed to call Freddie, the sister's husband, with whom they had a common feud.
It's a rare enough thing — a man who lives up to his reputation.
— I can't believe that my life revolves around a man. On what planet did I allow that to happen?
— But you love him.
— Does that mean saying his name 50 times more a day than I say my own? Does it mean worrying about him and his needs before me and mine? Is it all about the other person? Is that love?
— No, that's marriage.
— You...
— Darling, why are you crying?
— I... I'm not crying! I'm drooling! My eyes are drooling!