My varying pairs of legs can be quite practical or quite impractical, and I don't judge them either way. Some are for getting around a 12-hour day, pounding the pavement, and some are to feel like I can transform my own body into a workable, changing...
I don't think neurobiology is going to replace aesthetics or art history. It's a parallel discipline that adds a new dimension. I always compare it to Leonardo da Vinci looking at the structure of the human body, and you learn more about how the join...
Our body always tells us what it wants and needs—the question is whether we are listening.
I accept my body and its defects. I accept my character and its weaknesses. I love myself as a perfect part of a perfect Whole.
I’ve learned to not let rejection bother me. How can it bother me, when all the people who’ve rejected me have been murdered, and their bodies smartly disposed of?
Our romance lasted a few months. I was so deflated the day I lost my air pump and couldn’t blow love into her life-sized body.
It feels like my soul is slowly leaving my body and heading off to an unknown place, some "safe" place where it doesn't have to put up with me and my night terrors.
Marriage has now taken the form of divorce: a prolonged and impassioned negotiation as to how things shall be divided. (from "Feminism, the Body, and the Machine")
I know from my own experience that suicide is not what it seems. Too easy to try to piece together the fragmented life. The spirit torn in bits so that the body follows.
I saw you before. All your flaws, your imperfections. Your body’s going to a lot of trouble to hide something, something inside of you. It must be very precious.
Again and again, counteract the agitation and turbulence of the mind by relaxing more deeply, not by contracting the body or mind.
The nights were advantageous, too. After they kissed their families goodnight, it was expected that they would share a bed, their bodies close, their movements obscured under the covers.
We leave such a trail of bodies through our teens and twenties that it's hard to tell which one is us. How many versions do we abandon over the years
He watched you like a man starved for the only thing that could fulfill his hunger." My eyes popped out and my body flushed about a thousand shades of red. "Oh, wow...
I couldn’t peel my eyes off her face or her body. Even if she had asked me not to follow her, I would have followed anyway. I was in a Norah state of mind.
Frailty, thy name is woman!— A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears:—
Ugh! I absolutely hate lust. Hate. It. Every fiber of my being knows he’s not a good person, yet my body doesn't seem to give a shit at all.
I happen to be immature, undisciplined, and self-centered, pretty much a little boy in a man's body, although I'd appreciate it if you didn't quote me on that. -Bobby Tom
You dump trash. You dump yard waste and old ripped couches that smell like body odor and forgetfulness. You dump cigarette butts and banana peels and hazardous waste. But people?
The absense of a soul, by the way, makes it easy to inhabit a body. (Therefore, why is Elton John still pudging around unpossessed? I hear you ask?)
If you will practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies and heartbeats.
