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Quote by Steven Magee

“If your girlfriend’s sexual desire wanes, it is a strong indication she has a secret lover.”

Quote by Steven Magee

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Steven Magee

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“Many people do not understand the art of winning and this has been the case for many centuries. There was once a Shaolin monk who was constantly being challenged to fight. He always won, even against the angriest and strongest fighters, because they could not understand that technique is always superior to personal will and expectations. Some of the men noticed his skill and asked to be trained with him, and once their technique was good enough, they would try to defeat him. But the monk would defeat them instead because they could not understand that experience is always superior to technique. As the monk grew older, he did not desire to fight anymore, and so many men would insult him. But the monk was still winning,  because they could not understand that they were wasting an opportunity to learn and the monk did not desire to waste the little time he had left on earth. Before he died, the monk wrote a few manuscripts with his wisdom, but few were capable of understanding his words because their spirit was not ready. They were still thinking about winning. And so they lost everything, they lost the opportunity to develop a new technique, gain experience, study and understand how to win.”

“True love is found only when paths cross, not from the angle of what is observed within a cognitive conceptualization but rather the angle of spiritual desire. It is in this outcome, manifested in a receiving through giving, gaining through offering and winning through losing, that you understand the mystery veiled by the emotions you have attracted. Then, and only then, you will understand the limitations of distance, time and location as merely distractions in the path to the ultimate goal, which is the fulfilling of your own faith. That faith is rewarded through the eyes that will reflect your own desires.”

“En réalité, j’ai l’impression que la structure fondamentale du désir se situe justement ici : il est propulsé par l’exigence de mettre à portée quelque chose qui ne l’est pas (encore). Et là se trouve peut-être la clé permettant de nous soustraire au jeu de l’accroissement sans limites auquel se livre la modernité et à son ambition de rendre tout et chacun disponible, de la priver de l’énergie de propulsion dont elle a besoin, de débrancher en quelque sorte sa « prise libineuse ». Ma thèse est que la structure fondamentale du désir humain est un désir de relation : nous voulons atteindre ou rendre atteignable quelque chose qui n’est pas « à notre disposition ». Ce quelque chose peut être, par exemple, une nouvelle guitare ou une tablette tactile, un lac ou un être aimé. Dans tous ces cas, le désir vise à entrer avec ce qui est désiré dans une relation responsive ; de placer la guitare, la personne ou le lac dans un rapport de réponse, ou d’entrer avec la tablette dans des relations responsives avec le monde. Mais dans chaque cas, je l’affirme, le désir s’éteint lorsqu’il n’y a plus rien à « découvrir » sur ou avec le vis-à-vis, si nous maîtrisons et contrôlons toutes ses propriétés, si nous en disposons totalement. Une fois de plus, nous pouvons donc aussi parler de « semi-disponibilité » : nous ne pouvons pas désirer une personne ou une guitare si nous ne savons strictement rien d’elle et si nous ne l’avons jamais vue. Dans la première dimension, l’objet du désir doit donc être au moins partiellement et temporairement disponible, sans quoi il renvoie à une « nostalgie sans nom », dans laquelle l’objet du désir est le désir lui-même. La disposition complète, dans la totalité des quatre dimensions, provoque en revanche l’extinction du désir : le jeu perd son objet, la musique son attrait, l’amour son ardeur. L’indisponibilité complète est dépourvue de sens au regard du désir, mais la disponibilité totale est sans attrait. Cela signifie qu’une relation réussie au monde vise à l’atteignabilité, pas à la disponibilité. Il faut qu’un vis-à-vis soit atteignable sous une forme quelconque, il doit être possible de nouer avec lui un rapport de réponse qui ne soit pas erratique, c’est-à-dire complètement fortuit, mais qui ne soit pas non plus entièrement contrôlable, et qui, à partir de cette structure même, enclenche l’interaction entre l’interpellation, l’efficacité personnelle et la transformation, permettant ainsi l’expérience de la vitalité.”

“Her limber body swayed as though in time to an orchestra and in a way that showed she ate well, and ate all kinds of things no one could tell, like veal or fresh figs in the sunshine. She had the kind of face that made one cry. She drew salt water out like sheer chemistry. The chemical reaction was usually the same sentiment—the world saw the little shelf bone under her eyes, a sharp nose, precious jaw, two moons for cheekbones, and so was deeply confused and upset that there was no metal armor attached to her body to protect her. People had cried fearing all kinds of possibilities—that a piece of hail might cut across her cheek, a drunkard might break her nose, or a car from nowhere would crash into hers and shatter her skull entirely. But no case of that happened. She remained unblemished. Watchful cars slowed down for her as she walked, drunkards sobered at her eyes, and even hail made way for this little human.”

“Tom felt his darkness. His father was beautiful and clever, his mother was short and mathematically sure. Each of his brothers and sisters had looks or gifts or fortune. Tom loved all of them passionately, but he felt heavy and earth-bound. He climbed ecstatic mountains and floundered in the rocky darkness between the peaks. He had spurts of bravery but they were bracketed in battens of cowardice.”

“He eyed her fingernails, painted bright blue. Her wrists smelled like peppermint and she said her name was “Stella.” Andrei was impressed by her femininity, the subject of which was a dangerous thing. When some men are exposed to a certain kind of woman, they become so absolutely entranced by their iridescence that they would do anything to be around them for longer. Lie. Linger. Kill. It was a pure, wild attraction, that started from a collarbone, that would make a man agree to rip out his tooth if only to hear a woman talk again. Lastly, she had these devilish eyes exclusive to brown and only ever sometimes encountered. Those types of eyes were so dark they had death in them, but were framed with such sweet, narrow eyelids that took death, swirled it in a sizzling adorableness, and communicated a dangerous, impatient capability for sex. It seduced men throughout history—what lived behind the mischievous, delicate, hickory fire.”

“I don’t want to spoil us with the color red," he thought. Sometimes, flirtation that led to nothing was everything. The coquetry remained harmless. If fortunately ceased, momentary sparks would not be damaged by a chair-throwing, divorce-filing, property- debating future. It was one of life’s little treats to meet someone amazing, have perfect chemistry, and walk away flattered and regretful, and best of all, forever remember a stranger who was so right and yet, by then, so far away. A perfect memory tastes sweeter than an exhausting series of normal ones. People could have each other without possession. Nothing needed to last forever when good memories lasted forever.”

“To Andrei, he could see all that was unpleasant about her face—her large nose and bony frame. But inside her, there was so much peace and contentment that somehow, she lit up everywhere. She was beautiful to him. It was the kind of attraction between people who were really people—and who could see the other person’s aura and makings. He saw what made her flesh move, and not her flesh. The intricate mechanics of her person, and not her shell. Andrei looked at O’Hare and saw something genderless—a kind of organism that was born and that over time has been affected and affects—that was ultimately kind and brave. It was the highest rank of physical desire one could experience. When the beautiful made standard love to each other, there always lay at least one angle of ugly—maybe in the dark, from the side, with a sound they made, or everything once one was finished. In what O’Hare and Andrei shared, beauty could take its time and no second could stop it. It was the type of wholesome love that made a couple stare for minutes at the other, not because they adored their lover’s eye color, but because in those minutes they were speaking to the person within the person, finding them, seeing them see, and playing together in that invisible planet created by two intuitive inventors.”

“He wanted to bite her nose and she wanted to grip his cheeks. They moved toward the person they liked and did all that was meant to be done. They kissed with unmistakable character. O’Hare had mastered English; mastery in any field defined one’s behavior. When one let something kill them enough, that essence shaped their core and the person became distinctive. It gave rhythm to their kisses. Motivated their periods of intensity and retreat. How they pulled each other’s hair. Andrei pressed his lips over her moles, island by island, star by star, and ate them like chocolate chips.”