July 20, 2019 / Leave a Comment
“Being too nice? It may be worth thinking twice”
July 20, 2019 / Leave a Comment
“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”
In all your Amours you should prefer old Women to young ones. You call this a Paradox and demand my Reasons. They are these:
The Face first grows lank and wrinkled;
then the Neck;
then the Breast and Arms;
the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one.
And as in the dark, all cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.
Breathly and Lastly They are so grateful!!”
By Ayn Rand…
“I want you, Hank. I’m much more of an animal than you think. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you – and the only thing I’m ashamed of is that I did not know it. I did not know why, for two years, the brightest moments I found were the ones in your office, where I could lift my head to look up at you. I did not know the nature of what I felt in your presence, nor the reason. I know it now. That is all I want, Hank. I want you in my bed – and you are free of me for all the rest of your time. There’s nothing you’ll have to pretend – don’t think of me, don’t feel; don’t care – I do not want your mind, your will, your being or your soul, so long as it’s to me you will come for that lowest one of your desires. I am an animal who wants nothing but the sensation of pleasure which you despise – but I want it from you. You’d give up my height of virtue for it, while I – I haven’t any to give up. There’s none I seek or wish to reach. I am so low that I would exchange the greatest sight of beauty in the world for the sight of your figure in the cab of a railroad engine. And seeing it, I would not be able to see it indifferently. You don’t have to fear that you’re now dependent on me. It’s I who will depend on any whim of yours. You’ll have me anytime you wish, anywhere, on any terms. Did you call it the obscenity of my talent? It’s such that it gives you a safer hold on me than on any other property you own. You may dispose of me as you please – I’m not afraid to admit it – I have nothing to protect from you and nothing to reserve. You think that this is a threat to your achievement, but it is not to mine. I will sit at my desk and work, and when the things around me get hard to bear, I will think that for my reward I will be in your bed that night. Did you call it depravity? I am much more depraved than you are: you hold it as your guilt, and I – as my pride. I’m more proud of it than anything I’ve done, more proud than of building the Line. If I’m asked to name my proudest attainment, I will say: I have slept with Hank Rearden. I had earned it.”
“Fireflies out on a warm summer’s night, seeing the urgent, flashing, yellow-white phosphorescence below them, go crazy with desire; moths cast to the winds an enchantment potion that draws the opposite sex, wings beating hurriedly, from kilometers away; peacocks display a devastating corona of blue and green and the peahens are all aflutter; competing pollen grains extrude tiny tubes that race each other down the female flower’s orifice to the waiting egg below; luminescent squid present rhapsodic light shows, altering the pattern, brightness, and color radiated from their heads, tentacles, and eyeballs; a tapeworm diligently lays a hundred thousand fertilized eggs in a single day; a great whale rumbles through the ocean depths uttering plaintive cries that are understood hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, where another lonely behemoth is attentively listening;
bacteria sidle up to one another and merge; cicadas chorus in a collective serenade of love; honeybee couples soar on matrimonial flights from which only one partner returns; male fish spray their spunk over a slimy clutch of eggs laid by God-knows-who; dogs, out cruising, sniff each other’s nether parts, seeking erotic stimuli; flowers exude sultry perfumes and decorate their petals with garish ultraviolet advertisements for passing insects, birds, and bats; and men and women sing, dance, dress, adorn, paint, posture, self-mutilate, demand, coerce, disassemble, plead, succumb, and risk their lives.
To say that love makes the world go around is to go too far. The Earth spins because it did so as it was formed and there has been nothing to stop it since. But the nearly maniacal devotion to sex and love by most of the plants, animals, and microbes with which we are familiar is a pervasive and striking aspect of life on Earth. It cries out for explanation. What is all this in aid of? What is the torrent of passion and obsession? Why will organisms go without sleep, without food, gladly put themselves in mortal danger for sex? … For more than half the history of life on Earth, organisms seem to have done perfectly well without it. What good is sex?… Through 4 billion years of natural selection, instructions have been honed and fine-tuned…sequences of As, Cs, Gs, and Ts, manuals written out in the alphabet of life in competition with other similar manuals published by other firms. The organisms become the means through which the instructions flow and copy themselves, by which new instructions are tried out, on which selection operates.
‘The hen,’ said Samuel Butler, ‘is the egg’s way of making another egg.’ It is on this level that we must understand what sex is for. … The sockeye salmon exhaust themselves swimming up the mighty Columbia River to spawn, heroically hurdling cataracts, in a single-minded effort that works to propagate their DNA sequences into the future generation. The moment their work is done, they fall to pieces. Scales flake off, fins drop, and soon–often within hours of spawning–they are dead and becoming distinctly aromatic.
They’ve served their purpose.
Nature is unsentimental.
“Death is built in.”Carl Sagan, Shadows Of Forgotten Ancestors: A Search For Who We Are
“I missed you, Sebastian.”
“Really, love?” He unbuttoned her robe buttons. The light in the eyes glittering with heat as her skin was exposed.
“Which part did you miss the most?”
“Your mind,” she said, smiling at his expression.
“I was hoping a lot in a more corrupt response than that.”
“Your mind is corrupt,” she said seriously.
He gave the husky a laugh. “Real.”
Lisa Kleypas, A Wallflower Christmas
“I think women are sexy when they got some clothes on. And if later they take them off then you’ve triumphed.
Somebody once said it’s what you don’t see you’re interested in, and this is true.”
T.Bulanova- “ONLY YOU”
Transl. by Maya
Only you, even though you were bad,
Your flowers I still have in my hand
I stroked them suddenly, though they were dry,
But only you gave them to me before.
And only you, even though you were a stranger,
My dreams, in them you are still mine,
Although I have been living all alone for a long time
I’m waiting for what will happen next.
You believe, how often at a night time,
I dreamed about you, my beloved and missed you.
My God, I’m still jealous,
Yes about that other jealous,
I kiss you in a dream,
telling myself, you’re still with me.
Only I, even though you have long gone,
My love, although the whole year pass,
But even now, as on that distant day,
I say to myself “You are close”.
And only I keep your love,
Understand me, I was so expecting that again
I will see your eyes and say:
“Do not leave me, do not.”
You believe, someday in the winter,
Maybe I will not be anymore,
I know, love will judge you,
At the crossroads of fate
Such as I will not be
Ever with you.
All the best…
Like it here? Please comment and share…