Sexes Quotes (page 24)
Do they still call it infatuation? That magic ax that chops away the world in one blow, leaving only the couple standing there trembling? Whatever they call it, it leaps over anything, takes the biggest chair, the largest slice, rules the ground wherever it walks, from a mansion to a swamp, and its selfishness is its beauty.... People with no imagination feed it with sex -- the clown of love. They don't know the real kinds, the better kinds, where losses are cut and everybody benefits. It...
Toni Morrison
By deafening ourselves to the emotional consequences of violence we have become confused by its relationship to sex. We have come to believe that violence equals aggression, and we have come to base our model of sexuality on our model of violence... converting an act of aggression into an act of consensual sexuality.
Derrick Jensen
What the hell time is it?" muttered the old man. He was always an aggressive sleeper. Sleep was one of the things he did best, and he loved it. Some look upon sleep as an unfortunate necessary interruption of life; but there are others who hold that sleep is life, or at least one of the more fulfilling aspects of it, like eating or sex. Any time my old man's sleep was interrupted, he became truly dangerous.
Jean Shepherd
Orlando was unaccountably disappointed. She had thought ofliterature all these years (her seclusion, her rank, her sex must beher excuse) as something wild as the wind, hot as fire, swift aslightning; something errant, incalculable, abrupt, and behold, literature was an elderly gentleman in a grey suit talking aboutduchesses.
Virginia Woolf
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
Cheryl Strayed
yeah, i'm a rocket ship on my way to marson a collision coursei am a satellite i'm out of controli am a sex machine ready to reloadlike an atom bomb about tooh oh oh oh oh explodei'm burnin' through the sky yeahtwo hundred degreesthat's why they call me mister fahrenheiti'm trav'ling at the speed of lighti wanna make a supersonic woman of you
Freddie Mercury