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Quote by André Aciman

“I did not want passion, I did not want pleasure. Perhaps I didn’t even want proof. And I did not want words, small talk, big talk, bike talk, book talk, any of it. Just the sun, the grass, the occasional sea breeze, and the smell of his body fresh from his chest, from his neck and his armpits.”

Quote by André Aciman

Book:Call Me by Your Name
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Call Me by Your Name

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Author

André Aciman

André Aciman, born on January 2, 1951, is a renowned writer known for his profound psychological insights and unique narrative style. His works, such as 'The Museum of Unconditional Love,' are celebrated for their emotional depth and distinctive storytelling. more

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“I feared if I spoke I would no longer be happy, or would be so in a way that I did not want to be, and so I surrendered myself body and soul to the joy that was inundating my whole being and that I could see was mutual. My happiness so overwhelmed my senses that it reached the point where nature, drowning in supreme pleasure, exhausts itself. For the space of a minute I remained motionless, in intellectual contemplation and adoration of my own apotheosis. Sight and touch, which I had thought must be the main characters in this drama, played only secondary roles. My eyes desired no greater happiness than to remain fixed on the face of the creature charming them, while my touch, limited to my fingertips, feared to move, since it could conceive of no greater sensation.”

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Book:The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt 1725 - 1798
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“It spoils my enjoyment of anything when I am made to think that most people are shut from it. 'I call that fanaticism of sympathy,' said Will, impetuously. If you carried it out you ought to be miserable in your own goodness, and then turn evil that you might have no advantage over others. The best piety is to enjoy - when you can. You are doing the most to save the earths character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates. It is of no use to try and take care of all the world; that is being taken care of when you feel delight - in art or in anything else. Would you turn all the youth of the world into a tragic chorus, wailing and moralizing over misery? I suspect that you have a false belief in the virtues of misery, and want to make your life a martyrdom.”

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“He leaned back on his hands. And then idly turned to her. She inhaled, and exhaled an almost long-suffering sigh. And he began in a patient, almost leisurely fashion, in a voice fashioned from dark velvet, a voice that stroked over her senses until they were lulled, to lecture directly to her as if she was a girl in the schoolroom. "A proper kiss, Miss Eversea, should turn you inside out. It should... touch places in you that you didn't know existed, set them ablaze, until your entire being is hungry and wild. It should... hold a moment, I want to explain this as clearly as possible..." He tipped his head back and paused to consider, as though he were envisioning this and wanted to relate every detail correctly. "It should slice right down through you like a cutlass with a pleasure so devastating it's very nearly pain." He waited, watching her face, allowing her to accommodate the potent words. Her mouth was parted. Her breathing short. She couldn't look away. His eyes and voice held her as fast as if he'd cradled her face with his hands. And as he said them, an echo of sensation sounded in her, like a remembered dream, an instinct awakened. She thought about Mars getting ready to give Venus a good pleasuring. Stop, she should say. "And...?" she whispered. "It should make you do battle for control of your senses and your will. It should make you want to do things you'd never dreamed you'd want to do, and in that moment all of those things will make perfect sense. And it should herald, or at least promise, the most intense physical pleasure you've ever known, regardless of whether that promise is ever, ever fulfilled. It should, in fact..." he paused for effect "haunt you for the rest of your life." She sat wordlessly when he was done. As though waiting for the last notes of a stormy, discordant symphony to echo into silence. 'The most intense physical pleasure.' His words reverberated in her. As if her body contained the ancient wisdom of what that meant, and now, having been reminded, craved it.”

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Book:What I Did for a Duke
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