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Harem Quotes

Browse 52 quotes about Harem.

Harem Quotes

“What the hell are you three doing?" I clutch my chest and try to calm my heart. I had asked for privacy. "We felt your power flare." Oh, they felt me lust for Mother Faerie. Just great. Now I'll never hear the end of it. I couldn’t help myself, though, she’s so powerful. "Tell me, how would Draven feel about you hooking up with his mommy?”

“Happiness, she would explain, was when a person felt good, light, creative, content, loving and loved, and free. An unhappy person felt as if there were barriers crushing her desires and the talents she had inside. A happy woman was one who could exercise all kinds of rights, from the right to move to the right to create, compete, and challenge, and at the same time could be loved for doing so. Part of happiness was to be loved by a man who enjoyed your strength and was proud of your talents. Happiness was also about the right to privacy, the right to retreat from the company of others and plunge into contemplative solitude. Or sit by yourself doing nothing for a whole day, and not give excuses or feel guilty about it either. Happiness was to be with loved ones, and yet still feel that you existed as a separate being, that ou were not just there to make them happy. Happiness was when there was a balance between what you gave and what you took.”

“You’re not part of the team because you’re the field.” “I’m not sure if you’re trying to tell me that you’re playing me, but that’s what it sounds like.” He scrubs his hand over his mouth, hiding a smile. “No, that’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to say is you’re the reason we’re a team. We come together for you, meeting on mutual grounds to work toward the finish line, which is making our little family a safe and happy home.”

“They stared at me without emotion—without recognition, almost. Even Fjor, who had dragged me beneath him, whose hot mouth had devoured mine only the night before. He narrowed his dark eyes as though he could tell I was remembering it … and he wasn’t happy about it. I smirked in response. “Again?” Andel suddenly snapped, looking between me and Fjor, his eyes darkening in fury. “Again?” Helki repeated, confused. “It would seem so.”

“Yeah, babe. A good surprise. What kind of boyfriends do you think we are?” “Boyfriends,” I parrot. “Not the word you’d pick?” Anakin asks, knowing me far too well. “It’s too simple of a word.” He nods and rests his chin on my shoulder. “How about husbands?” “Too human.” “Mates?” “What are we, werewolves?” He chuckles. “Well then, what do you want to call us?” I frown. “I don’t know, mine?”

“No!” Lada shook her head, eyes still wild. “I cannot go in there! If a woman enters the harem complex, she belongs to the sultan!” Mehmed peered out the window they had climbed through, to make sure their path was clear. “I would not hold you to that, Lada, and—” “It would not matter! Everyone would know, I would be labeled your concubine, and—” Radu took her hand, which still hung in the air pointing accusingly at Mehmed, and squeezed it in his own. “And you would be unmarriageable? What a tragedy. I know how dearly you treasured the hope of marrying some minor Ottoman noble, dear sister.” She finally met his eyes, hers still feverish and frenzied. “But I would be his.” “I think our Mehmed is smart enough to know he could never claim you. Right?” Radu’s tone was light, and he turned to Mehmed with a playful smile. Perhaps it was the dimness of the room, or the stress of the night, but Mehmed’s face was clouded with…disappointment? Hurt? Then a tight, false smile took its place, and he nodded. Radu’s own chest felt equally tight with anxiety and fear and a twisting, bitter sense of jealousy.”

“Long story short,” I muttered, as Helki narrowed his eyes on us from the fence around the training yard, where he had been silently watching me train. “I … uh … well, I did the obvious. I had sex with Helki, almost killed myself because look at him, and then my Vold magic was back. Obviously.” “Obviously,” Sig repeated, looking like he wanted to either laugh or throw up. “Are you going to have sex with all of them now and win your powers back one orgasm at a time?”

“You made a deal, Tempest.” It was Vidrol’s silky voice that spoke, edged in dark warning. “I agreed to be your wife.” I swallowed around the words, hating the way they burned angrily through my mouth. “I never promised to only marry you.” “You can’t—" "Of course I can,” I snapped back. “How many women are in your harem? A hundred? More? There are no laws against taking five husbands in Fyrio.”

“You know exactly what I’m offering you. All of you. I’m offering the impossible. I’m giving you both of the options you deliberated over for so long. I’m offering to save this world…” I pressed my teeth together, flicking my eyes to the three figures now huddled in the corner of the room, cowering away from our tense discussion. “And I’m offering to share in the benefits,” I finally hedged. “A six-way share. A six-way partnership.” “You can’t cram six people into a two-person carriage”

“The German huts, open on every side to the eye of indiscretion or jealousy, were a better safeguard of conjugal fidelity than the walls, the bolts, and the eunuchs of a persian harem. To this reason, another may be added of a more honourable nature. The Germans treated their women with esteem and confidence, consulted them on every occasion of importance, and fondly believed that in their breasts resided a sanctity and wisdom more than human.”

“There are congregations on nearly every corner. I'm not sure we need more churches. What we need is a church. I say one church is better than fifty. I have tried to remove the plural form churches from my vocabulary, training myself to think of the church as Christ did, and as the early Christians did. The metaphors for her are always singular - a body, a bride. I heard one gospel preacher say it like this, as he really wound up and broke a sweat: "We've got to unite ourselves as one body. Because Jesus is coming back, and he's coming back for a bride not a harem.”

“Man seems to be an animal whose capacity for lies is only equalled by his credulity; it does no good to let battalions of cats outof bags, to produce whole harems of naked facts, people eat the same three meals daily deception, and are always ready to turn with fury upon the purveyors of bagless cats and facts undraped. Probably their instinct is wise. Who knows?”

“That's for the best. Otherwise they might realize they're in prison. It can't be helped. You women are used to harems and prisons. A person can spend his whole life between four walls. If he doesn't think or feel that he's a prisoner, then he's not a prisoner. But then there are people for whom the whole planet is a prison, who see the infinite expanse of the universe, the millions of stars and galaxies that remain forever inaccessible to them. And that awareness makes them the greatest prisoners of time and space.”

“Solomon, who was one of the Deity's favorites, had a copulation cabinet composed of seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. To save his life he could not have kept two of these young creatures satisfactorily refreshed, even if he had fifteen experts to help him. Necessarily almost the entire thousand had to go hungry for years and years on a stretch. Conceive of a man hardhearted enough to look daily upon all that suffering and not be moved to mitigate it.”

“You are wrong when you say there is no power in being a woman. When I think of my mother and the women in my tribe, and the hidden women in the harem, I know there are many types of power in this world...I found power in accepting the truth of who I am. It may not be a truth that others can accept, but I cannot live any other way. How would it be to live a lie every minute of your life? I don't think I could do it.”

“Do you know where Jason is?” she asked Dmitri when they exited the morgue. Dmitri pressed the car remote to unlock the flame red Ferrari parked in the employees-only lot. “Tired of your Bluebell already?” A tendril of champagne circled around her senses, cut with something far harder. Never had she felt that harsh edge in Dmitri’s scent. She pitied the woman he took to his bed today. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m building a harem.”

“Really, a young Atheist cannot guard his faith too carefully. Dangers lie in wait for him on every side. You must not do, you must not even try to do, the will of the Father unless you are prepared to "know of the doctrine." All my acts, desires, and thoughts were to be brought into harmony with universal Spirit. For the first time I examined myself with a seriously practical purpose. And there I found what appalled me; a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds. My name was legion.”

“It is their nature, beautiful and simple. That you would destroy such beings, Mr. Lincoln, such superior creatures, seems madness to me.” “That you speak of them with such reverence, Mr. Poe, seems madness to me.” "Can you imagine it? Can you imagine seeing the universe through such eyes? Laughing in the face of time and death—the world your Garden of Eden? Your library? Your harem?”

“Real bibliophiles do not put their books on shelves for people to look at or handle. They have no desire to show off their darlings, or to amaze people with their possessions. They keep their prized books hidden away in a secret spot to which they resort stealthily, like a Caliph visiting his harem, or a church elder sneaking into a bar. To be a book collector is to combine the worst characteristics of a dope-fiend with those of a miser.”

“I've always loved books. I'm passionate about them. I think books are sexy. They are smooth and solid and contain delightful surprises. They smell good. They fit into a handbag and can be carried around and opened at will. They don't change. They are what they are and nothing else. One day I want to own a lot of books and have them nbear to me in my house, so that I can stroll to my bookshelves and choose what I fancy. I want a harem. I shall keep my favourites by my bed.”

“By putting the spotlight on the female child and framing her as the ideal of beauty, he condemns the mature woman to invisibility. In fact, the modern Western man enforces Immanuel Kant's nineteenth-century theories: To be beautiful, women have to appear childish and brainless. When a woman looks mature and self-assertive, or allows her hips to expand, she is condemned ugly. Thus, the walls of the European harem separate youthful beauty from ugly maturity.”