Victoria made a violent sound of protest. “I am not repressed!” Seht pinched her nipple and watched her resulting shiver. “You have never been spanked or ass-f**ked. I would say that’s pretty damned repressed.” “Bastard!
I am waiting for you in the living room... the very pink living room. I do hope that when we acquire a home of our own, after this nonsense has passed, you will not insist on bathing the entire space in shades of bubble gum.
I am often thought of as being remarkably bright, and yet my brains, more often than not, are busily devising new and interesting ways of bringing my enemies to sudden, gagging, writhing, agonizing death.
I am, when you stop to think of it, a member of a fairly select group: the final handful of American novelists who learned to read and write before they learned to eat a daily helping of video bullshit.
I have no memory of climbing the stairs up to the roof. I don't even know how to get where I am, which is a problem since I'm going to have to get down, ideally in a way that doesn't involve dying.
We think of mortality so little these days... I thought of the stern Victorian determination to keep death in mind, the uncompromising tombstones. Remember, pilgrim, as you pass by, As you are now so once was I: As I am so will you be...
I am simply impressed by the unexpected insights which shower down on me when my job is to imagine, as contrasted with the woodenly familiar ideas which clutter my desk when my job is to tell the truth.
Oh, there ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets Just banging tunes and DJ sets And dirty dancefloors and dreams of naughtiness I Bet that You Look Good on the Dancefloor
I am the red wheelbarrow of communism. William Carlos Williams wrote a poem about me.
I am the sky and nothing can stick to me. The sky is open and vast and stays unchanged no matter what; it is always the sky. A storm can roll through it, an airplane can roar through, and it is always the sky.
Consider my Lover; the yellow church of his skin, the clean wells of his ears; How the notes of a song come to him like birds descending on a power line; How in his absence I am of two throats--each of them cramped.
I am starting to talk fast now, and I have to remember to slow down because when I get excited, I start to sound like myself and my American accent goes away.
I've demonstrated an impressive resilience in the face of valuable life lessons, and the main thing I seem to have learned from this one is that I am capable of learning nothing from almost any experience, no matter how profound.
The joy of comradeship in this foreign land has been killed by silence and overprotection of personal space. I miss the chaos around me for it makes me realise that I am amidst life and alive.
At first it was simply liking, Nastenka, but now, now ! I am just in the same position as you were when you went to him with your bundle. In a worse position than you, Nastenka,because he cared for no one else as you do.
The letter I received said you had need of my particular talents, but I must confess that I have so many talents that I am not sure which one you require.
In the apocalyptic environment that is Los Angeles on fire, we should all be making a point to have a lot of sex, but no one seems particularly motivated. They need leaders, and sadly I am not up for the task.
Do you know what punishments I've endured for my crimes, my sins? None. I am proof of the absurdity of men's most treasured abstractions. A just universe wouldn't tolerate my existence.
I want someone to sit beside after the day's pursuit and all its anguish, after its listening, and its waitings, and its suspicions. After quarrelling and reconciliation I need privacy - to be alone with you, to set this hubbub in order. For I am as ...
I am not important. If I take a break, no one dies. And this is A Good Thing.
I feel no grief for being called something which I am not; in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a good back rub
