“You learn to love
that used to disgust you.
Those you cannot bear
you learn to accept.
Hating yourself is
It is time for you
to rest.”—Michelle K., It is Time. (via annieanemone)
“What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”—Pedro Arrupe (via psych-facts)
“Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace… but we would be hollow… Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we’d be truly dead.”—Joss Whedon (via anexquisitenymph)
“Every kiss provokes another. Ah, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring into life. How closely, in their abundance, are they pressed one against another; until lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour, as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.”—Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way (via man-of-prose)
“All women dream of meeting a partner who will like our bodies as they are. We long for partners who will offer affirmation and unconditional acceptance, particularly if we have never been affirmed or were affirmed only as children in our families of origin. We long for acceptance of our physical beings, to be admired as we are, even as we withhold affirmation from ourselves. This is the worst form of self-sabotage. We can “start where we are” by offering ourselves that gaze of approval we long to see in the eyes of someone else. The more we love our flesh, the more others will delight in its bounty. As we love the female body, we are able to let it be the ground on which we build a deeper relationship to ourselves—a loving relationship uniting mind, body, and spirit.”—Bell Hooks, “Growing into a Woman’s Body” (via decapitatedroses)
“I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than do those words which express thoughts rationally conceived. It is blood that moves the body. Words are not meant to stir the air only: they are capable of moving greater things.”—Sōseki Natsume, Kokoro (via luv-me-tender)
When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern. The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits - islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.
“I believe that we all have the right to experience sexual pleasure. For the vast majority of us, sexuality is a central part of our humanity, a basic pleasure, like enjoying the taste of food or laughing until we cry. On a more practical level, if it makes me feel good before, during, and after; and if it involves other people and makes them feel good before, during, and after […]”—Jaclyn Friedman – What you really really want, p. 49 (via lowoncliches)
“Don’t kiss me during the fireworks. Kiss me after and give everyone else something to look at once chaos has passed. Don’t kiss me when you don’t know what else to say, kiss me when that’s all that needs to be said. Don’t kiss me at all the right times, kiss me mid sentence because my lips were moving, and you were jealous of the air because they weren’t moving on yours. Don’t read up on old fairy tales I don’t want a fairy tale. I want real and in the moment. So kiss me when you’re up in flames and about to burst. Kiss me when the tears are doing all the work. Kiss me hard and kiss me good.
-Al”—Wouldn’t You Like To Know: (via jessiquaaa)
“Sensuality does not wear a watch but she always gets to the essential places on time. She is adventurous and not particularly quiet. She was reprimanded in grade school because she couldn’t sit still all day long. She needs to move. She thinks with her body. Even when she goes to the library to read Emily Dickinson or Emily Bronte, she starts reading out loud and swaying with the words, and before she can figure out what is happening, she is asked to leave. As you might expect, she is a disaster at office jobs.”— J. Ruth Gendler, The Book of Qualities (via theladycheeky)
“You know what’s really, powerfully sexy? A sense of humor. A taste for adventure. A healthy glow. Hips to grab on to. Openness. Confidence. Humility. Appetite. Intuition. … Smart-ass comebacks. Presence. A quick wit. Dirty jokes told by an innocent-looking lady. … A storyteller. A genius. A doctor. A new mother. A woman who realizes how beautiful she is.”— Courtney E. Martin, “Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters” (thx @TheMamaSutra & Carly G.)
“There are more desirous things about a person than outer beauty. In my opinion, this is true for all things, but especially with sex. The best sexual experiences people have had, have been ones where subjective thought is overshadowed by the free, inherent and flowing nature of their sensuality. Being sensual is who we are. Our sensuality doesn’t look at the number on the scale, the shade of our skin or the symmetry of our face. Our sensuality just looks for an open road, without obstruction - so that it can drive fast and free and unhindered.”—- Lady Cheeky, Smut For Smarties (via theladycheeky)
“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.”—Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha (via letmedothis)
“There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on trees, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotten this language. We do not even remember that it exists.”—A Language Older Than Words, Derrick Jensen (via clutchtightly)
“I would kiss you in the middle of a lightning storm. I would kiss you knowing it would kill me, cause I’d rather be left for dead than left to wonder what thunder sounds like.”—Andrea Gibson, Wasabi (via briannadiane)
“Socializing is as exhausting as giving blood. People assume we loners are misanthropes just sitting thinking, ‘Oh, people are such a bunch of assholes,’ but it’s really not like that. We just have a smaller tolerance for what it takes to be with others. It means having to perform. I get so tired of communicating.”—Anneli Rufus (via wordsthat-speak)
“So it is with minds. Unless you keep them busy with some definite subject that will bridle and control them, they throw themselves in disorder hither and yon in the vague field of imagination….And there is no mad or idle fancy that they do not bring forth in the agitation.”—Michel de Montaigne (via 9amatistas)
“At moments she seems non-human, because she is so unconscious of her acts, unfettered by human considerations or hesitations. She lives as if in a dream, in innumerable impulses and whims, plunging into relationships, destroying unintentionally in her fiery course. She is so busy just being, talking, walking, making love, drinking, that she can achieve nothing else. She refuses to contemplate the meaning of direction in her life. She lives within chaos. So she is just being. Nothing can control her. She is our fantasy let loose upon the world. She does what others do only in their dreams. Mindless, the life of our unconscious without control. There is a fantastic courage in this, to live without laws, without fetters, without thought of consequences. I look with awe on her impulsiveness, her recklessness; She enriches me more than tender devotions of others, the measured loves, the considerate cautiousness of others. I will love her back and enrich her as well.”—Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anaïs Nin Volume I 1931-1934 (via violentwavesofemotion)
“The anus [is] this amazing thing that nobody appreciates. Here’s this ring of muscle with nerves that has to discriminate between solid, liquid, and gas, and let it out accordingly. He’s like, “No engineer could design something as multifunctional and fine-tuned as an anus. To call someone an asshole is really bragging him up.” That was the moment I thought, “Oh yeah, this could be an interesting book.”—
Over some beers and grilled cheese, we talked to author Mary Roach about indelicate things such as rectal smuggling (three phones at a time!?!), fake poop, and chewing diets. Intrigued? Disgusted? Check out her new book, Gulp!
“Blake said that the body was the soul’s prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the ‘windows of the soul.’ When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.”—― Jim Morrison (via theladycheeky)
“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is live-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies. My little orbit of life circles love. I dare not get any closer. I’m not a mystic seeking final communion. I don’t go out without SPF 15. I protect myself. But today, when the sun is everywhere, and everything solid is nothing but its own shadow, I know that the real things in life, the things I remember, the things I turn over in my hands, are not houses, bank accounts, prizes or promotions. What I remember is love - all love - love of this dirt road, this sunrise, a day by the river, the stranger I met in a café. Myself, even, which is the hardest thing of all to love, because love and selfishness are not the same thing. It is easy to be selfish. It is hard to love who I am. No wonder I am surprised if you do.”—Jeanette Winterson; ”Lighthousekeeping” (via violentwavesofemotion)
“Something changes the moment you decide you’ve found a person you are ready to reveal parts of your soul to. Something stands out and makes the moment unique. A profound multidimensional clarity resembling a piece of carefully gathered stardust; As if you are whispering “finally” and your eyes fill with light and spontaneity. As if you do not care whether your heart will melt or crumble in the process because your brief courage undoes your tremendous fear of disbelief. You live for these moments; For you are, maybe for one second or more, sweetly forced to surrender yourself to unconditional intimacy. A moment of psychological reward smashing all self-imposed disciplines founded on terror. This is all you need.”—Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934 (via ethostheatre)
“Somebody loves you if they don’t mind the quiet. They don’t mind running errands with you or cleaning your apartment while blasting some annoying music. There’s no pressure, no need to fill the silences. You know how with some of your friends there needs to be some sort of activity for you to hang out? You don’t feel comfortable just shooting the shit and watching bad reality TV with them. You need something that will keep the both of you busy to ensure there won’t be a void. That’s not love. That’s “Hey babe! I like you okay. Do you wanna grab lunch? I think we have enough to talk about to fill two hours!” It’s a damn dream when you find someone you can do nothing with. Whether you’re skydiving together or sitting at home and doing different things, it’s always comfortable. That is fucking love.”—
“My main goal is to stay alive. To keep fooling myself into hanging around. To keep getting up every day. Right now I live without inspiration. I go day to day and do the work because it’s all I know. I know that if I keep moving I stand a chance. I must keep myself going until I find a reason to live. I need one so bad. On the other hand maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s all bullshit. Nothing I knew from my old life can help me here. Most of the things that I believed turned out to be useless. Appendages from someone else’s life. Everything I have I would give to not know what I know. To not feel emptiness as my constant companion. To not look into this room and be reminded why I’m in it. I’m not getting enough air. The room feels so small all of a sudden. It’s pathetic to be this lonely and know it. To keep breathing. To be silent and alone. And to know.”—Henry Rollins, Roomanitarian (via beksinski)
“She puts her hands on either side of my face, and the room falls away. I have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And then, the space between us explodes. My heart keeps missing beats and my hands cannot bring her close enough to me. I taste her and realize I have been starving. I have loved before, but it didn’t feel like this. I have kissed before, but it didn’t burn me alive. Maybe it lasts a minute, and maybe it’s an hour. All I know is that kiss, and how soft her skin is when it brushes against mine, and that even if I did not know it until now, I have been waiting for this person forever.”—Jodi Picoult (via rainydaysandblankets)