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Shameless Quotes

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Shameless Quotes

“Most priests wish they were as righteous as they seem to most members of their congregations.”

“The point was, there'd be nothing to this if you were beautiful and sexy. The point was, in a world where everybody had to look so pretty all the time, this guy wasn't. The monkey wasn't. What they were doing wasn't. The point was, it's not the sex part of pornography that hooked the stupid little boy. It was the confidence. The courage. The complete lack of shame. The comfort and genuine honesty. The up-front-ness of being able to just stand there and tell the world: Yeah, this is how I chose to spend a free afternoon. Posing here with a monkey putting chestnuts up my ass. And I really don't care how I look. Or what you think. So deal with it. He was assaulting the world by assaulting himself.”

“After Evie had finished her plate, Sebastian tugged her to the billiards table and handed her a cue stick with a leather tip. Ignoring her attempts to refuse him, he proceeded to instruct her in the basics of the game. “Don’t try to claim this is too scandalous for you,” he told her with mock severity. “After running off with me to Gretna Green, nothing is beyond you. Certainly not one little billiards game. Bend over the table.” She complied awkwardly, flushing as she felt him lean over her, his body forming an exciting masculine cage as his hands arranged hers on the cue stick. “Now,” she heard him say, “curl your index finger around the tip of the shaft. That’s right. Don’t grip so tightly, sweet…let your hand relax. Perfect.” His head was close to hers, the light scent of sandalwood cologne rising from his warm skin. “Try to imagine a path between the cue ball—that’s the white one—and the colored ball. You’ll want to strike right about there”—he pointed to a place just above center on the cue ball—“to send the object ball into the side pocket. It’s a straight-on shot, you see? Lower your head a bit. Draw the cue stick back and try to strike in a smooth motion.” Attempting the shot, Evie felt the tip of the cue stick fail to make proper contact with the white ball, sending it spinning clumsily off to the side of the table. “A miscue,” Sebastian remarked, deftly catching the cue ball in his hand and repositioning it. “Whenever that happens, reach for more chalk, and apply it to the tip of the cue stick while looking thoughtful. Always imply that your equipment is to blame, rather than your skills.” Evie felt a smile rising to her lips, and she leaned over the table once more. Perhaps it was wrong, with her father having passed away so recently, but for the first time in a long while, she was having fun. Sebastian covered her from behind again, sliding his hands over hers. “Let me show you the proper motion of the cue stick—keep it level—like this.” Together they concentrated on the steady, even slide of the cue stick through the little circle Evie had made of her fingers. The sexual entendre of the motion could hardly escape her, and she felt a flush rise up from the neck of her gown. “Shame on you,” she heard him murmur. “No proper young woman would have such thoughts.” A helpless giggle escaped Evie’s lips, and Sebastian moved to the side, watching her with a lazy smile. “Try again.”

“Was that a tattoo I saw on your back?” He asked. “None of your business.” “I just didn’t peg you for the tramp stamp type.” “It’s not a tramp stamp. It’s my F-holes,” I corrected. His eyes had widened before he let out a long, deep laugh. “Jesus, Henley.” “For a violin, you A-hole.” I turned around, raising my shirt high enough on my lower back to reveal two curved lines on either side of my spine. I jumped when the pad of his finger ran over the design leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Wow,” he mumbled, and I turned back around to face him, letting the hem of my shirt fall from my hands. “What? You think it’s stupid.” “No… no. I think that’s the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen. How often does someone get to finger your strings?”

“The covers slipped between them. Amelia shivered as the cool air wafted over her naked back and shoulders. “Come back to bed,” she whispered. “I need you to warm me.” Cam stripped away his shirt, and laughed quietly as he felt her hands plucking at the buttons of his trousers. “What happened to my prudish gadji?” “I’m afraid”— she reached into his open falls and stroked his aroused flesh—“ that continued association with you has made me shameless.” “Good, I was hoping for that.”

“If "love" was what made someone walk into the fray, despite knowing very well that it was wrong - if "love" made them stand by their mistakes, despite knowing full well that they were stepping into a bottomless abyss, to the point they could disregard anything from infamy, scorn, principles, morals, to life itself - then, to him, this seemed less like a type of affection and more like some kind of disease.”

“The first book that I bought with my own money was "The Blue Aspic" by Edward Gorey. In fact, when the first two volumes of "A Series of Unfortunate Events" were ready to be published, I sent them to Edward Gorey with a note saying how much I admired his work and how much I hoped that he would forgive what I had stolen from him. Shortly after I sent it, he died. So, I like to think that I killed him.”

“Shame often causes me to hide my mistakes from others. But really, when I make a mistake, I should make it loud and clear, so I can see that it didn’t work as a strategy, and be able to make a course correction, either by myself or with the help of others.”

“In an age of unscrupulous and shameless book-making, it is a duty to give notice of the rubbish that cumbers the ground. There is no credit, no real power required for this task. It is the work of an intellectual scavenger, and far from being specially honorable.”

“Part of what made the Macintosh great was that the people working on it were musicians and poets and artists and zoologists and historians who also happened to be the best computer scientists in the world.”

“Ultimately, it comes down to taste. It comes down to trying to expose yourself to the best things that humans have done and then try to bring those things into what you're doing. Picasso had a saying: good artists copy, great artists steal. And we have always been shameless about stealing great ideas, and I think part of what made the Macintosh great was that the people working on it were musicians and poets and artists and zoologists and historians who also happened to be the best computer scientists in the world.”

“Politics is the soil in which the nettle of poisonous enmity, evil suspicions, shameless lies, slander, morbid ambitions, and disrespect for the individual grows rapidly and luxuriantly. Name anything bad in man and it is precisely in the soil of political struggle that it grows with particular liveliness and abundance.”

“If I get clear of my debts, I care not though men call me bold, glib of tongue, audacious, impudent, shameless, a fabricator of falsehoods, inventor of words, practised in lawsuits, a pettifogger, a rattle, a fox, a sharper, a knave, a dissembler, a slippery fellow, an imposter, a rogue that deserves the cat-o-nine-tails, a blackguard, a twister, a licker-up of hashes; they call all this when they meet me, if they please, I care not.”

“The egoist ... destroys the universal importance accorded to moral law by showing that life independent of it is possible. Secondly, and even more intolerably to the pious, he manages to do so with shameless enjoyment.”