#oman

No man or woman is an island. To exist just for yourself is meaningless. You can achieve the most satisfaction when you feel related to some greater purpose in life, something greater than yourself. ↗

— Denis Waitley

#exist #feel #greater #island #just

The sight of the first woman in the minimal two-piece was as explosive as the detonation of the atomic bomb by the U.S. at Bikini Island in the Marshall Isles, hence the naming of the bikini. ↗

— Tom Waits

#atomic bomb #bikini #bomb #explosive #first

So, I've never been politically correct, even before that term was available to us, and I have really identified with other people who don't want to be read as just a black poet, or just a woman poet, or just someone who represents a cause, an anti-Vietnam war poet. ↗

— Diane Wakoski

#been #before #black #cause #correct

Man cannot degrade woman without himself falling into degradation; he cannot elevate her without at the same time elevating himself. ↗

— Alexander Walker

#degradation #degrade #elevate #elevating #falling

To me, the black black woman is our essential mother, the blacker she is the more us she is and to see the hatred that is turned on her is enough to make me despair, almost entirely, of our future as a people. ↗

— Alice Walker

#black #despair #enough #entirely #essential

Most of us have trouble juggling. The woman who says she doesn't is someone whom I admire but have never met. ↗

— Barbara Walters

#i #juggling #met #most #never

I really think that aside from admiring my talent you really admire me as a person and as a woman. ↗

— Katherine Dunham

#admiring #aside #i #me #person

There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature. ↗

— Lawrence Durrell

#her #into #literature #love #only

I'm a romantic guy. ↗

— Fred Durst

#i #romantic

Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me. Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted. ↗

— L.A. Weatherly

#beauty