The Change

Why do you think women are designed to outlive men? Why do we keep going for thirty years after our bodies can no longer reproduce? Do you think nature meant for those years to be useless? No, of course not. Our lives are designed to have three parts. The first is education. The second, creation. And in part three, we put our experience to use and protect those who are weaker.

That doesn't offend me. 'Witch' is the label society slaps on women it can't understand or control.

Anyone who needs a reward to be good isn’t good. They just like rewards. Good people do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do.

Anger's like rocket fuel. Either it pushes you forward or it burns you alive. - Harriett Osborne

Don't know about you, but I like taking up more space.

All recipes are spells and all cooks are witches.

Yes, you’re afraid of me because I’m better than you are. And if you give one talented woman the power she deserves, another will follow. Then another. And together they’ll show that their way is better. Then your whole fake fucking world will come tumbling down.

Justice may be slow, but she’s also relentless.

It wouldn’t have been such a leap, truth be told. She’d been seeing things through men’s eyes for years. Her entire career, men had informed her what was good and what wasn’t. And she’d always assumed they were right.

sometimes fuck is the only word that will do,

Our lives our designed to have three parts. The first is education. The second, creation. And in part three, we put our experience to use and protect those who are weaker. This third stage, which you have entered, can be one of incredible power.

The problem was the companies that sold shitty sanitary pads. Otherwise reasonable adults who believed tampons stole a girl's virginity. Doctors who didn't bother to solve common problems. Birth control that could kill you. Boys who were told that they couldn't control themselves. A society that couldn't handle the fact that roughly half of all humans will menstruate.

Only when her magic began to return did she realize just how much she’d given away.

Do you know how beautiful it is to be alive? Do you have any idea how few people really are? You’ve got a spark. And even now, after everything you’ve been through, it’s as strong as ever.

She’d tried so hard to prove she was good enough. And now, with a few simple sentences, Harriett had explained it so plainly. Jo had been good enough all along. They’d made her feel like a failure, when the truth was, they just hadn’t wanted her around. There was nothing she could have done.

Nothing ages a person like poverty and misery,” Harriett said. “Despite what all the ads claim, it’s not skin cream that helps some women keep their glow. The only true youth serum has two ingredients—luck and money.

in these situations, you followed the rules first. You toed the line. You made sure to cross every t and dot every i. And when that didn’t work, it was time to bring out the goddamned gators.

Everyone you help’s gonna want a piece of you. Give what you can, but you’ll be worthless to all of them unless you stay whole.

And in case you haven't noticed, somebody's always killing women.

I'm an adult and this is my house. I can grow what I like in my garden. Wear what I choose. What difference does it make what you or anyone else thinks of as normal? Why the f should I care if you approve?

Over the years, she’d trained several smarmy young men who’d gone on to become high-ranking executives. At the time, Jo had assumed it was her fault she’d never risen any higher. The men they’d promoted weren’t juggling a job and motherhood. They never had to scramble when the day care was closed or the babysitter called in sick. So Jo had watched as men who weren’t as smart or diligent or trustworthy as she was worked their way past her toward the company’s C-suite.

It’s all about the killers—not the women they kill.

Justice may be relentless, as Franklin says, but she’s also hobbled by rules. That’s why I choose vengeance. She’s the only mistress I serve.

Her good, solid, middle-class mother had tried so hard to iron out her rough edges—and blamed herself when she realized she hadn’t succeeded. Those rough edges had rubbed quite a few people the wrong way. Somehow Jo had always sensed those weren’t the kind of people she wanted around her. And as she grew older, she saw that those who wanted girls to be docile and disciplined were often the same people who took advantage of them.

She’d taken on the burden of supporting the family only to find herself tending to his fragile ego as well. She loved Art too much to point that out. She just wished he’d get a fucking job.

That anger's like rocket fuel. Either it pushes you forward or it burns you alive.

Witch’ is the label society slaps on women it can’t understand or control.

No one teaches girls how to take care of themselves. We train them to be pretty and kind and polite right before we set them loose in a world filled with wolves. Then we act surprised and horrified when some of them get eaten.