sex

Her heart unfolded in her chest, took in all of him, and closed tightly, unwilling to let him go

Miriam - I'll give you any flowers you want!' Rhapsodising over the thousand scents of her body, I exclaimed: 'I'll grow orchids from your hands, roses from your breasts. You can have magnolias in your hair...!''And in my heart?''In your womb I'll set a fly-trap!

I grew up watching my father make plates that featured penises as centerpieces. Pink, proud, and stiff, encircled by cerulean Greek key, Dad__ creations made me feel scared and small. I saw a private part of the man I could not measure up to. At six years old, I lived in a world shaded by his ceramic glazes. There was love and color, but anger, too, in the way he kneaded his clay, palms pounding the rich, wet earth into shapes of his choosing.

Many are the women who can take their clothes off seductively, but women who can charm as they dress?

Conquest was not satisfying if it began with a surrender.

The boring thing with 'No sex before marriage' is that kids will never get to attend their parents_ wedding.

Love is all the dirty little tricks you taught me that you probably got out of some book.

When human beings give their heartfelt allegiance to and worship that which is not God, they progressively cease to reflect the image of God. One of the primary laws of human life is that you become like what you worship; what__ more, you reflect what you worship not only to the object itself but also outward to the world around. Those who worship money increasingly define themselves in terms of it and increasingly treat other people as creditors, debtors, partners, or customers rather than as human beings. Those who worship sex define themselves in terms of it (their preferences, their practices, their past histories) and increasingly treat other people as actual or potential sex objects. Those who worship power define themselves in terms of it and treat other people as either collaborators, competitors, or pawns. These and many other forms of idolatry combine in a thousand ways, all of them damaging to the image-bearing quality of the people concerned and of those whose lives they touch.

I remember that one day, when we were in a car tooling along at top speed,we crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl. Her head was almost totally ripped off by the wheels. For a long time, we were parked a few yards beyond without getting out, fully absorbed in the sight of the corpse. The horror and despair at so much bloody flesh, nauseating in part, and in part very beautiful, was fairly equivalent to our usual impression upon seeing one another.

Good lord, what have I gotten myself into?

I Don__ Know whether lust is a human coarseness or a human fineness: I don__ know why death holds a so sweet lure since it would take away my Body: I don__ know that I wouldn__ deny my Christ, if I had one, three times before a given cockcrow: I don__ know on the other hand that I would: I don__ know whether honor is a reality in human beings or a pose: I don__ know that I mayn__ be able to think with my Body when it is in its coffin.

His presence was stirring heat in all the wrong places and for all the wrong reasons.

My essay had evolved into thinking about fucking. You could be raped a thousand times and still be a virgin. I was writing about fucking by a master and fucking as a slave, about Hegel, the comfort women and teenage porno stars. Ms. Bain and Mr. Rotowsky could fail me, I didn__ care. I__ pass just with the bibliography. I was compiling a list of every single book I__ read or that I wanted to read that was about power and sex. High school should have a whole fucking course on just this. I was helping the school make curriculum_I was writing my essay, writing easily now. I didn__ have a reader anymore like Lee or Chris but I imagined that I was writing for them both. Maybe I was writing for anyone who could fucking stand me.

Prostitutes are paid for taking their clothes off. Celebrities are paid for putting others' clothes on.

Hatred is about possession. It is all-consuming, cruel, and vainglorious. When love is allowed to fester, it becomes twisted and corrupt; it settles deep in the heart...and metastasizes, sending its dark roots through the body to raze all that stands in its way. Love is chaste and pure. Love is banal....No, hatred has infinitely more possibilities.

At night all cats are grey.

It was an obsession, it was a compulsion. "The way to banish temptation is to give into it," the saying went. Maybe if she experienced a gangbang, it wouldn't be such a big deal, and would no longer be the focus of her sexual imagination.

The amount of perfume she had on was like a human sacrifice on Incense Night.