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I loved her; I didn’t know how to say it without breaking down the autobot façade she saw before her and revealing the ugly and scarred wreck that lived within my skin. So I played with the radio instead. ↗
She had seen them in turmoil all round her--love, hatred, vengeance, treachery--she herself practically the pivot around which they raged. Out of the deadly strife she had emerged pure, happy in the arms of the man whom her wondrous adventures as much as his brilliant personality had taught her to love. ↗
#diogenes #laughing-cavalier #scarlet-pimpernel #series #love
Either I’ve got a wart on my nose they find curious, or I’ve grown a tail, Albie Merani muttered to himself. Just then he thought. I’d better get a move on, got work to do. He hurried across to some stairs, heading down deeper into station, then followed the signs to the pod station. ↗
#crime-fiction #crime-thriller #gold #love #mystery-thriller
There must be a connection between the lust for power and impotentia coeundi. I liked Marx, I was sure that he and his Jenny had made love merrily. You can feel it in the easy pace of his prose and in his humor. On the other hand, I remember remarking one day in the corridors of the university that if you screwed Krupskaya all the time, you'd end up writing a lousy book like Materialism and Empiriocriticism. ↗
#lenin #umberto-eco #love
Ach, wie ich sie umfing, wie ich in ihre Arme stürzte, mit welch verzweiflungsvoller Inbrunst ich in ihrem Fleisch wühlte, als könnte ich in ihrem Leibe das Geheimnis ihrer Seele schlürfen. ↗
#love #time-travel #love
Βλέπεις όμως, Ισμηνάκι μου, η ελευθερία είναι πιο δυνατή από την αγάπη, γιατί η αγάπη είναι κόρη της. Είναι ο καθρέφτης της, οι δυο όψεις της ζωής, που έλκονται και απωθούνται, όπως θα έλεγε και ο Αρχιτέκτονας στη γλώσσα της επιστήμης. Γιατί αγάπη χωρίς ελευθερία είναι φωτιά χωρίς ανάσα, και ελευθερία χωρίς αγάπη είναι μοναξιά του κερατά. Έτσι, αγάπη που περιορίζει την ελευθερία, γεννά την αγάπη για την ελευθερία. "Αυτό το παιχνίδι δίνει το ρυθμό του κόσμου", όπως μου 'λεγε τις προάλλες ο Φιλόσοφος. ↗
The conversation was mesmerizing, not for its content but for the cadences of the talk, the rhythm we fell into when we were alone, now as before. Every conversation between friends or lovers creates its own easy or awkward rhythms, hidden talk that runs like a subterranean river under even the most banal exchange. ↗
