“It would figure the best looking guy on this ward is gay...and he has a sexier than sin boyfriend...I swear to God I'm going to turn into a man. It's the only way".”
― quote from I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier
“Now wait a second..." Kenneth butted in.
"Yeah, we haven't asked you the questions yet," Brandon finished for Kenneth.
"Yeah, like what are your intentions toward our little Ryan," Patrick added, smirking.
"What do you do for a living?" Brandon added.
"Can you support Ryan's shoe fetish?" Kenneth threw his question in too.
"Hmm, okay, here are my answers. I plan on feeding him, dancing with him and God willing fucking him until he can't walk straight. I help infertile chickens have baby chickens, and I think so. I'm hoping his feet are about my size. We can share shoes and everything," Phillip answered.”
― quote from I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier
“I tried to whisper sweet nothings into your ear but you're way the fuck over there and I'm way the fuck over here.”
― quote from I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier
“Just remember, Sergeant Grabowski. You may be able to order me around, but we both know who makes your privates stand at attention.”
― quote from I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier
“Now, to get this gift you have to stay sharp. Keep your head down. Don't be a hero unless you have to. All you have to
do is survive. I know you can.”
― quote from I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier
“to dedicate oneself as a Victim of Love is not to be dedicated to sweetness and consolations; it is to offer oneself to all that is painful and bitter, because Love lives only by sacrifice and the more we would surrender ourselves to Love, the more we must surrender
ourselves to suffering”
― Thérèse de Lisieux, quote from Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux
“Marriage . . . is not a love affair; it is an ordeal. (92)”
― Joseph Campbell, quote from Thou Art That: Transforming Religious Metaphor
“Oh Mickey, it was wonderful, it was fun - the whole kitten and kaboozle. It was like living. And to be denied that whole part would be a great loss. You gave it to me. You gave me a double life. I couldn't have endured with just one."
I'm proud of you and your double life."
All I regret", she said, crying again, crying with him, the two of them in tears..."is that we couldn't sleep together too many nights. To commingle with you. Commingle?"
Why not."
I wish tonight you could spend the night."
I do, too. But I'll be here tomorrow night."
I meant it up at the Grotto. I didn't want to fuck any more men even without the cancer. I wouldn't do that even if I was alive."
You are alive. It is here and now. It's tonight. You're alive."
I wouldn't do it. You're the one I always loved fucking. But I don't regret that I have fucked many. It would have been a great loss to have had otherwise. Some of them, they were sort of wasted times. You must have that, too. Haven't you? With women you didn't enjoy?"
Yes."
Yes, I had experiences where the men would just want to fuck you whether they cared about you or not. That was always harder for me. I give my heart, I give my self, in my fucking."
You do indeed."
And then, after just a little drifting, she fell asleep and so he went home - "I'm leaving now" - and within two hours she threw a clot and was dead.
So those were her last words, in English anyway. I give my heart, I give my self, in my fucking. Hard to top that.
To commingle with you, Drenka, to commingle with you now.”
― Philip Roth, quote from Sabbath's Theater
“We're all entitled to a little stupidity now and then.
--Beldin”
― David Eddings, quote from The Seeress of Kell
“But still she was motionless, like a curled up, oblivious creature. His heart beat with strange throes of pain. Then, by a motion under his hand, he knew she was crying, holding herself hard so that her tears should not be known. He waited. The tension continued—perhaps she was not crying—then suddenly relapsed with a sharp catch of a sob. His heart flamed with love and suffering for her. Kneeling carefully on the bed, so that his earthy boots should not touch it, he took her in his arms to comfort her. The sobs gathered in her, she was sobbing bitterly. But not to him. She was still away from him. He held her against his breast, whilst she sobbed, withheld from him, and all his body vibrated against her. "Don't cry—don't cry," he said, with an odd simplicity. His heart was calm and numb with a sort of innocence of love, now. She still sobbed, ignoring him, ignoring that he held her. His lips were dry. "Don't cry, my love," he said, in the same abstract way. In his breast his heart burned like a torch, with suffering. He could not bear the desolateness of her crying. He would have soothed her with his blood. He heard the church clock chime, as if it touched him, and he waited in suspense for it to have gone by. It was quiet again. "My love," he said to her, bending to touch her wet face with his mouth. He was afraid to touch her. How wet her face was! His body trembled as he held her. He loved her till he felt his heart and all his veins would burst and flood her with his hot, healing blood. He knew his blood would heal and restore her. She was becoming quieter. He thanked the God of mercy that at last she was becoming quieter. His head felt so strange and blazed. Still he held her close, with trembling arms. His blood seemed very strong, enveloping her. And at last she began to draw near to him, she nestled to him. His limbs, his body, took fire and beat up in flames. She clung to him, she cleaved to his body. The flames swept him, he held her in sinews of fire. If she would kiss him! He bent his mouth down. And her mouth, soft and moist, received him. He felt his veins would burst with anguish of thankfulness, his heart was mad with gratefulness, he could pour himself out upon her for ever. When they came to themselves, the night was very dark. Two hours had gone by. They lay still and warm and weak, like the new-born, together. And there was a silence almost of the unborn. Only his heart was weeping happily, after the pain. He did not understand, he had yielded, given way. There was no understanding. There could be only acquiescence and submission, and tremulous wonder of consummation. The”
― D.H. Lawrence, quote from The Rainbow
Two-Way Street
To Tame a Highland W...
The Crow
The Monstrumologist
Against Nature
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