“No man of any intelligence would pretend to know a female mind.”

“Colin decided then and there that the female mind was a strange and incomprehensible organ - one which no man should even attempt to understand. There wasn't a woman alive who could go from point A to B without stopping at C, D, X, and 12 along the way.”

“No. Haven’t you been listening?” Marcus would always remember that moment. It was to be the first time he would ever be faced with that most vexing of female quirks: the question that had nothing but wrong answers.”

“...there us a difference you know, between the male and the female ghost-""What is the difference?" Georgina asked."Oh, the male ghost is obsessed with venegemce, I find." Lear said, drinking again."And what are females obsessed by?" Hugh asked."Prick songs," Lear said. "Snogging. Same as when they are alive, really.”

“It has oft been said that physicians make the worst patients, but it is the opinion of This Author that any man makes a terrible patient. One might say it takes patience to be a patient, and heaven knows, the males of our species lack an abundance of patience.”

“It's very bad form to spy on one's host," he said, planting his hands on his hips and somehow managing to look both authoritative and relaxed at the same time."It was an accident," she grumbled."Oh, I believe you there," he said. "But even if you didn't intend to spy on me, the fact remains that when the opportunity arose, you took it.""Do you blame me?"He grinned. "Not at all. I would have done precisely the same thing."Her mouth fell open."Oh, don't pretend to be offended," he said."I'm not pretending."He leaned a bit closer. “To tell the truth, I'm quite flattered.""It was academic curiosity," she ground out. "I assure you."His smile grew sly. "So you're telling me that you would have spied upon any naked man you'd come across?""Of course not!""As I said," he drawled, leaning back against a tree, "I'm flattered.""Well, now that we have that settled," Sophie said with a sniff, "I'm going back to Your Cottage.”

“Mother,” Hyacinth said, pausing for slightly longer than normal to steal a bit of time to organize her thoughts, “I am not going to chase after Mr. St. Clair. He’s not at all the right sort of man for me.”“I’m not certain you’d know the right sort of man for you if he arrived on our doorstep riding an elephant.”“I would think the elephant would be a fairly good indication that I ought to look elsewhere.”