“A heart unbroken felt everything more deeply; when happy, it soared as if walking on clouds.”
Source: To Hell With You
“A glib wisdom holds that people like this just don’t want relationships. They have “problems with intimacy.” But the salient fact is: These were relationships. In Tommy’s case, in Gary’s, and in several others they were relationships that lasted years. Intimacy for most of us is a condition that endures, however often repeated, for minutes or for hours. And these all had their many intimate hours. But, like all sane relationships, they also had limits.”
Source: Times Square Red, Times Square Blue
“Sade's ultimate achievement was to make sex the choicest expression of obscene cruelty and absolute, despotic power.”
Source: The Misfortunes of Virtue and Other Early Tales
“He had taught her that nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps to perpetuate love.”
Source: Love in the Time of Cholera
“I wanted his weight on me. I wanted to see him hovering over my body and then burn the image into my brain.”
Source: Love and Other Words
“Sexul, conform naturii lui, nu era definit de un singur organism individual, ci de acela al speciei. Individul, după terminarea actului, nu poate decît să se întoarcă la propriul său eu. Numai oamenii fericiţi se întorc la mulţumire. Cei care au fost trişti se-ntorc la disperare. Cei care erau pe moarte, se-ntorc la patul lor de moarte.”
Source: The Woman in the Dunes
“I very much want to be considered on the basis of whatever merit I have, not on the basis of my sex.”
Source: Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg
“We are just two naked bodies. There's no need to share what's on our minds.”
Source: Painter of the Night
“Tout juste si - dans la ligne de mire -, baisers linguae of course,
in puris naturalibus, illico presto, cela va de soi,
décubitus dorsal, décubitus ventral, ipso facto, elle, lui et réciproquement
un temps à géométrie variable,
coïtus ininterrompus,
un temps à géométrie variable,
post coïtus, cigarette.
Détente soporifique, sommeil enfin, sommeil.
Un temps de porosité douce dans les parages d'Anastasie. Et réciproquement.
L'indifférenciation, elle, lui.
Ici, plus de mort. Ou la mort.
Le bouquet final d'une exténuation de guerre. Elle, lui.
Carpe diem.
C'est dimanche. Le rituel surferait sur le latin des pages roses.”
“Why do we feel the need to sex as dirty? Because if we don’t there won’t have any evil spirits to evoke and ride on into ecstasy.”