Quotessence
Home / Topics / Eroticism Quotes

Eroticism Quotes

Browse 47 quotes about Eroticism.

Eroticism Quotes

“She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex's ground floor. The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria's Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase "confidence," or "sexual appeal," or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground. One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.”

“Graffiti is the art of the people. It is a language without clear official status, but whose instinctive quality testifies to the honesty of human experience and the true nobility of art. Often marked with a sense of eroticism and violence, the wall conserves something pure and sacred about the human story.”

“[eroticism is] quality of aliveness, of vibrancy, of vitality, a life force" that's just as relevant to your work life as it is to your love life. Bringing eroticism into all areas of human existence is at the heart of her work. And because virtually everyone lives in a matrix of personal, professional, and transactional relationships, the erotic charge of those relationships is integrally tied to the pursuit of a meaningful life.”

“Love is the true state of the human heart. When we love, we unguard our hearts. We open ourselves up to the world with- out any restraint. When passion flows, desires stir, our earthy senses become dull, and our ethereal self becomes illumined. At this stage, we are naked, totally naked, with little or no covering of ego.”

“We fell into each other’s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.”

“Erotic attraction often serves as the catalyst for an intimate connection between two people, but it is not a sign of love. Exciting, pleasurable sex can take place between two people who do not even know each other. Yet the vast majority of males in our society are convinced that their erotic longing indicates who they should, and can, love. Led by their penis, seduced by erotic desire, they often end up in relationships with partners with whom they share no common interests of values.”

“I believe eros dwells in our innermost being as the spirit of creative expression. To me, eros is a great path that we must walk, a song we listen to, a game that we hunt and enjoy, a lesson to learn, a garden where flowers bloom, a prodigious puzzle to solve, a book to read, a chapter to write, and an ocean to swim in. That’s what eros is to me.”

“She had assumed they would see each other every day but she hadn’t really thought about the implications of having an affair with a married man. It wasn’t going to be a normal relationship.”

“I don't mind admitting that I, too, have watched Hilton undergoing the sexual act. I phrase it as crudely as that because it was one of the least erotic such sequences I have ever seen. She seemed to know what was expected of her and to manifest some hard-won expertise, but I could almost have believed that she was drugged. At no point did her facial expression match even the simulacrum of lovemaking.”

“The blonde was staring at herself in the mirror, taking on a thoughtful, reflective tone. “Well, it isn’t easy. And his mood changes in an instant. But he collects different girls for different flavors – so one girl doesn’t have to be everybody and everything.” “Oh.” I splashed water on my face and stared for a moment at the mask in the mirror. “You’re just his type, totally. With all the tattoos, you are utterly monstrous, if you don’t mind my saying so. Punk-Goth gone mad.” She swung around to take a close, direct look. “I never saw the point of tattoos, mind you, just fad and fashion. But,” she focused on me, stared, grinned, and rolled her eyes. “My God, darling, you really are perfect! How could you do that to yourself?” She licked her lips. “I think you will be a success. As I said, Sergei loves tattoos. He’s totally into the weird and the monstrous. He adores freaks – and kid, you are about as freakish as they come.” “You think so.” I turned my mask towards her and gave her an extra big smile – I was even more grotesque, Martine told me, when I smiled. “Oh, Gwen, how totally utterly horrible!” she declared and then kissed me to console me for having become a monster. As I grinned at Sergei’s girl, the metal rings in my ears clanked against each other. I could feel the large ring nose, warm, smooth steel, against my curled upper lip. “Yes, you look like a masterpiece of self-loathing.” “It’s called body art,” I said, “It’s a statement.” “A statement?” “Absolutely,” I hiccupped. Everything was fuzzy; I forced myself to focus. “Whatever it is, you’ll be a big success. Sergei collects waifs who suffer from extreme self-hatred. Self-destructive and self-hating girls are one of his hobbies. You can do so much with them.”

“La vanidad es, por mucho, mi pecado favorito, y la lente de la cámara es un espejo. La cámara capta todos los estados de ánimo y los matices; inmortaliza el continuo suave y sedoso que es la humanidad. Esos momentos capturados parecen tan fluidos, tan representativos de la continuidad. Representan la captura de un único momento y, sin embargo, la expresión de una eternidad. Toda tu juventud; todas tus edades, capturadas y expresadas en un solo clic. De todos los caprichos, el de la vanidad es sin duda mi favorito, al que deberíamos resistirnos, pero al que nos sentimos inexplicablemente cautivados y adictos. ¿Qué otro animal pasaría tanto tiempo haciendo pucheros y acicalándose frente a su reflejo? Sólo la humanidad participaría en tal auto-adoración. Se podría pensar que tenemos las plumas más coloridas o las melenas más suaves. En cambio, somos un bípedo desnudo que se siente incompleto sin algún elemento decorativo, accesorio o adorno del yo. Nos embriaga la imagen del cuerpo, de la misma manera que nos seducen los buenos vinos, las comidas o los elementos que alteran la mente. Devoramos la piel, y nos despojamos de la ropa como si fuera la piel de alguna fruta tropical, que oculta un interior colorido y jugoso. Cazamos placeres corporales, y los coleccionamos como premios; los exhibimos en situaciones sociales como si nuestros compañeros fueran una especie de adorno añadido a nosotros mismos. Nos revelamos en nuestra sensualidad. Tocar debajo de la superficie; conectar más allá de las fachadas, ese discurso inalcanzable entre individuos se pone tímidamente al alcance en la intimidad. Capturar esos momentos es captar la esencia de lo que nos hace humanos, y lo que en última instancia nos coloca por encima y al margen del resto de la naturaleza. Capturar la humanidad en sus expresiones más extravagantes es embriagador. La vanidad es, por mucho, mi pecado favorito, y es un cuento interminable tan infinito como la humanidad. Cada persona no es más que una puntada en un gigantesco tapiz.”

“Most of the books of erotic poetry available today are either too old or are big anthologies covering the same poets and poems. There is a lack of new and original work. Most of us have read something from Ovid, Sappho, Shakespeare, the ancient Greeks, the Romans, or from the Kama Sutra. But love is a theme that should be celebrated with freshness.”

“One second, he was in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the broad head of him; the next, his hands were on my waist and I flipped onto my front. He nudged my legs apart with his knees, spreading me as he gripped my hips, tugging them up, up before he sheathed himself deep in me with a single stroke. I moaned into the pillow at every glorious inch of him, rising onto my forearms as my fingers grappled into the sheets.”