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Quote by Melissa Broder

“As I teased, I smelled the faintest waft of shit coming up from underneath her. It smelled like fertile heaven: peat moss, soil, sod, loam. It smelled good because it was her. She had a perfume, and this was her base note.”

Quote by Melissa Broder

Book:Milk Fed
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Milk Fed

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Melissa Broder

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“And then Chris went alone into her room and wrote a letter, thinking she would send it, about sex and love. She was all confused about wanting to have sex, sensing that at this point if she slept with Dick the whole thing would be over. THE—UNEXAMINED—LIFE—IS NOT—WORTH—LIVING flashed the titles of a Ken Kobland film against the backbeat of a carfuck 1950s song. “As soon as sex takes place, we fall,” she wrote, thinking, knowing from experience, that sex short circuits all imaginative exchange. The two together get too scary. So she wrote some more about Henry James. Although she really wanted both. “Is there a way,” she wrote in closing, “to dignify sex, make it a as complicated as we are, to make it not grotesque?”

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“يخيل لأحدنا أنه سوف يبلغ إكتفاءً تاماً إذا توافرت لديه بعض حاجات معينة: فهو يتصور مثلًا القصر الذهبي والحديقة الغنّاء، والزوجة الجميلة والسيارة الفارهة والرزق الموفر، فيعتقد أنه سيكون سعيدًا بذلك فلا يحتاج إلى شيء آخر سواه. إنه مخطئ. وهو يدركهم ذلك عندما يكون محرومًا من تلك الحاجات الرائقة، لكنه لا يكاد يظفر بها حتى يسأم منها ويأخذ بالتطلع إلى البذخ الباذخ أو الطلعة الباهرة، أو إلى معالي الوزارة والجاه العظيم.”

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Book:مهزلة العقل البشري
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“All acts of sex were forms of degradation. Some random recollections: East 11th Street, on the bed with Murray Groman: “Swallow this mother ’til you choke.” East 11th Street, in the bed with Gary Becker: “The trouble with you is, you’re such a shallow person.” East 11th Street, up against the wall with Peter Baumann: “The only thing that turns me on about you is pretending you’re a whore.” Second Avenue, the kitchen, Michael Wainwright: “Quite frankly, I deserve a better-looking, better-educated girlfriend.” What do you do with the Serious Young Woman (short hair, flat shoes, body slightly hunched, head drifting back and forth between the books she’s read)? You slap her, fuck her up the ass and treat her like a boy. The Serious Young Woman looked everywhere for sex but when she got it it became an exercise in disintegration. What was the motivation of these men? Was it hatred she evoked? Was it some kind of challenge, trying to make the Serious Young Woman femme?”

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“I think it scares you, how much you want this.” He gave her hand a squeeze for emphasis. “It doesn’t exactly fit into your precious rulebook, does it? The strait-laced good girl isn’t supposed want to fuck her brother. Even if they’re not actually related, and there’s no blood shared between them. Even if he makes her come harder than anyone’s ever made her come in her life.” “Stop it,” said Jay.”

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“Eyes, opening from the darkness of desire, eyes that dimmed the breaking east. What was their languid grace but the softness of chambering? And what was their shimmer but the shimmer of the scum that mantled the cesspool of the court of a slobbering Stuart. And he tasted in the language of memory ambered wines, dying fallings of sweet airs, the proud pavan: and saw with the eyes of memory kind gentlewomen in Covent Garden wooing from their balconies with sucking mouths and the pox fouled wenches of the taverns and young wives that, gaily yielding to their ravishers, clipped and clipped again.”

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Book:A Portait of the Artist as a Young Man
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