I can’t be always and everywhere Who Man. Sometimes I have to be the Why Guy. But that’s what makes women want to make love to me and give me a discount price.
Love is 60% water, because a human being, the essence of love, is 60% water. But that’s the other 40% made up of? Easy—minty green tea and honey.
We made love like ten minutes ago. I still remember it vividly, even though our brief sexual encounter took place ten years ago.
Love is like encountering a forest and having to chop down every tree but one. Oh, and you have to chop down each tree by hugging it until it falls.
It's easy to say I love you, but much harder to show it. Be bold. Be in love—and show it. Love is like writing—show, don’t tell.
A prayerless age will have but scant models of divine power. The age may be a better age than the past, but there is an infinite distance between the betterment of an age by the force of an advancing civilization and its betterment by the increase of...
The truth is, Socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men's characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressur...
The age of the skyscraper is gone. This is the age of the housing project. Which is always a prelude to the age of the cave.
Of middle age the best that can be said is that a middle-aged person has likely learned how to have a little fun in spite of his troubles.
I wanted to tell her “I love you” back, but I guess in waiting for the perfect moment (the next commercial break), I ended up completely forgetting.
Love isn’t easy. Making love is easy, especially when you’re hard, like I am now. There’s just something about retirement homes that I find erotic.
You know you’re in love when you reach out to hold your woman’s hand, without remembering that her hands are full because you insisted she carry all the groceries out to the car.
I’ve got a great body. It’s got four wheels under it and I drive it to work. I would give you a ride to work, but what am I, a camel? No, I’m the Love Mule.
She moved her hands like crane claws as she spoke, trying to dig at the essence of what she was saying. It was the dirtiest I love you I’ve ever heard.
I love you because I love you, and if you don’t like it you can use my circular logic as a noose and hang yourself.
My girlfriend and I are close. She’s like a brother to me. My brother is also dating her. We make love like mannequins and mashed potatoes, despite the fact that I’m single and an only child.
I’d rather have a horse in a glass, because I’ll be just down the hall if you need me. My affection is fluid, so why won’t you let me love you?
We ate soup in the pouring rain. I said I liked it, even though it was a bit too watery for my taste. Then we made love like two rainbows sizzling in a pan like bacon.
All the love I have left over from my last relationship is covered in tinfoil and labeled “Do Not Eat.” Since I don’t feel like cooking or making love, I’ll probably have it for dinner tonight.
I called her Nebraska, because she was from Iowa. We made love like the Midwest. Well, not all of it. More like the Midwest minus Kansas, if you know what I mean.
I am Kid Awesome, I kid you not. But I don’t think making love is childish—or for children, unless you’re doing it for children (to produce them, not to entertain them).
