Okay, let’s put it this way. I would like to sleep with you. But it’s alright if I don’t sleep with you. What I’m saying is I’d like to be as fair as possible. I don’t want to force anything on anybody, any more than I’d want anything forced on me. It’s enough that I feel your presence or see your commas swirling around me.
Mr. Codro's destiny is Ptolemaic; in other words, based on fiction. Ptolemaic says it all; it means above all fixed and unchanging, that is to say different from real life which is by nature changing and temporary. It means: not according to natural truth, but according to man's desire and the pretense inspired by his fear of dying and his desire for permanence.
I am dead because I lack desire,I lack desire because I think I possess.I think I possess because I do not try to give.In trying to give, you see that you have nothing;Seeing that you have nothing, you try to give of yourself;Trying to give of yourself, you see that you are nothing:Seeing that you are nothing, you desire to become;In desiring to become, you begin to live.
Meditation did not relieve me of my anxiety so much as flesh it out. It took my anxious response to the world, about which I felt a lot of confusion and shame, and let me understand it more completely. Perhaps the best way to phrase it is to say that meditation showed me that the other side of anxiety is desire. They exist in relationship to each other, not independently.
And silence. She liked the silence most of all. The silence in which the body, senses, the instincts, are more alert, more powerful, more sensitized, live a more richly perfumed and intoxication life, instead of transmuting into thoughts, words, into exquisite abstractions, mathematics of emotion in place of violent impact, the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight.
Tie me up, please..." Chantal said. They looked above at some vines and roots hanging down from the grassy area above the depression in the canal they were standing in. She was in his hands—he had to comply.A little bit of kink was one of the most delicious of erotic pleasures. Catholic school girls were often the horniest—Brett could hardly contain his elation.
A silent velvet footstep filled me, unwelcome yet so needed. You finally found my hidden shore with grains of time and ocean of the most secret secrets, violet and red; left a trail of deep blue footsteps on my glowing beach of soul, and no matter how many times tides wash the golden sand anew, your prints can never be erased. Each one a shining star in my quiet Universe...
We can know what we do wrong even before we do it, but self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it.
Because sometimes people expect more, they expect their desires to be met, they fancy a future built on the pillars of their faith.But love is weak and impermanent and thus when the time comes, the pillars begin to crumble.Then again that doesn’t mean they can’t be built again. They can, they surely can, when the times are favorable and the state of affairs, sound.
Because sometimes people expect more, they expect their desires to be met, they fancy a future built on the pillars of their faith. But love is weak and impermanent and thus when the time comes, the pillars begin to crumble.Then again that doesn’t mean they can’t be built again. They can, they surely can, when the times are favorable and the state of affairs, sound.
Laura po Kitty touží. Po její síle, po tom, jak věcně, pohodově přijímá všechna svá zklamání, po mihotavých růžovozlatých světlech její utajené osobnosti, po křehkých našamponovaných hlubinách jejích vlasů.
You spoke to her, in hidden dreams...and smiled at her through open doors. She felt your secret love surround her at times. And while alone she felt your breath, heartbeat and more... Serenity of hers is never-ending, soothing....it leads, lures, calls you... Ah, timeless burning flame!.. Her kiss is ocean salty water, you drink and thirst increases...you long and pray for more...
On Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday:"These two simply appreciate one another more than either of them appreciates anyone else, and they would rather be appreciated by one another more than by anyone else. They just are at home with one another, whether or not they can ever live together under the same roof -- that is, ever find a roof they can live together under.
She leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it between her own. The touch was like white fire through his veins. He could not feel her skin only the cloth of her gloves, and yet it did not matter. You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer.
In Clint's arms, Josie discovered what the kiss of a man should feel like. Fire: unadulterated, skin-scorching, tummy twisting, panty wetting fire. He kissed her as if she were the most desirable woman in existence. He devoured her lips as if they were the most decadent treat imaginable. And when he pressed her against the hardness of his desire - for me - she mewled in want.
