I am two women: one wants to have all the joy, passion and adventure that life can give me. The other wants to be a slave to routine, to family life, to the things that can be planned and achieved. I'm a housewife and a prostitute, both of us living in the same body and doing battle with each other.

You have to fight for your life. That's the chief condition on which you hold it.

It seemed Eve’s bite from the apple of knowledge was a debt women were doomed to pay for eternity.

Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it.

If you get killed,” she argued with a mix of despair and anger, “it’s not just you who’ll pay the price. I’ll have to pay, too, you know, for the rest of my life. Doesn’t that matter to you?

War is a bazaar where lives are traded like any other commodity: chocolate or bullets or parachute silk.

Magistrate: May I die a thousand deaths ere I obey one who wears a veil!

Lysistrata: If that's all that troubles you, here take my veil, wrap it round your head, and hold your tounge. Then take this basket; put on a girdle, card wool, munch beans. The War shall be women's business.

Anyone who would pay to have sex with a woman who has no options deserves to get ripped off.

Stocks you trade, it's wives you're stuck with.

Every woman is a rebel.

"And yet were you to talk to such a martyr, to the woman who is about to be hanged, even just as she nears the gallows, she would tell you that she would not exchange either her life or her death for the life of the petty scoundrel who lives on the money stolen from his work-people. In her life, in the struggle against monstrous might, she finds her highest joys. Everything else outside the struggle, all the little joys of the bourgeois and his little troubles seem to her so contemptible, so tiresome, so pitiable! "You do not live, you vegetate," she would reply; "I have lived.

She turns to me sharply. “To live _is_ to fight,” she snaps. “To preserve life is to fight _everything_ that man stands for.” She takes an angry huff of air. “And now her, too, with all the bombs. I fight them every time I bandage the blackened eye of a woman, every time I remove shrapnel from a bomb victim.”

Her voice has raised but she lowers it again. “That's my war,” she says. “That's the war I'm fighting.

... Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

We demand for every working man work and bread!
For the people, a place to live. No democrat has the right
to deny these. We want action!
We demand war against the profiteers, peace with the workers!
We demand a solution to the Jewish question. We
Want all foreign races out of German life,
We demand an end to the German parliament. We want a leader above the mob.
We demand death sentences for crimes against the people! To the gallows with the profiteers and money-lenders!