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Quote by Gena Showalter

“William waved his hand, telling her, “Your turn. Let’s hear a sexual fantasy.” She thought for a moment. Eyes going dreamy, setting off all kinds of warning bells inside his head, she said, “I picture a strong, gorgeous man. He’s dressed, but not for long. He strips. I watch.” William’s mouth went dry. The warning bells? Forgotten. “And then?” She purred with pure, sexual carnality, nearly unmanning him. “He strips me, too, and...does a load of laundry, washing our dirty clothes. Oh, yeah. Oh, baby.”

Quote by Gena Showalter

Work

The Darkest King

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Author

Gena Showalter
Gena Showalter

Gena Showalter is an American author born in 1975. She is known for her works in the genres of fantasy and young adult literature, particularly for her romance fantasy novels. Her books have gained widespread popularity and have been recognized with numerous literary awards. more

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“Originality is merely a minor, secondary bonus to the pleasure of thought. Individuality, too, is a secondary aspect of the will and desire. The will is never mine; desire is never mine. For them to be will and desire, they have to circulate and be exchanged as symbolic material. For want of this symbolic devolution, we operate a technical transfer of all these functions on to machines — a transference of the human on to the inhuman. Now, if some human being thinks for me, nothing is lost. He is not lost, neither am I. Whereas if a machine thinks in my stead, we are both lost. In fact, this stage of the transference on to the machine is past. Today, it is machines which transfer their functions on to man. Man's fetishization of the machine has been succeeded by the fetishization of man by the machine. Today, it is man who has become the object of the perverse desire of the machine, of its desire to function at all costs. The machine is no longer an excrescence or a protruberance of man – it is man who is now merely the sex organ of the machine (Burroughs). And this is still quite a large claim, for what sex is the machine? Man has, rather, become the inflatable prosthesis of a sexless machine – the phantom limb of a useless function. The infinite degree, the degree zero, degree Xerox of the libido. Among those devices whose virtual libido man stokes up, there is of course the computer, of which man is the unconscious masturbator and his brain a hyper-object of concupiscence, but there is also the spectacularized body of woman, become a bachelor machine, a promotional and pornographic hypostasis, of which man is merely the sexless operator, the slavish voyeur, the auto-decoder.”

“Dear Lord, I know my life’s not perfect, and I don’t expect it to be. I’ve prayed to you many times dear Lord, for many things. I’ve prayed for reason, very minimal in relation to what I really desire. I will sacrifice all that I am, and that I could be, and everything I’ve ever prayed for, if you’ll answer the only permanent prayer that rest heavy in every fiber in my body. Dear Lord, please wrap your arms around my children, who are now young adults, and allow them good health, peace and happiness for all there days. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.”