#sen

The spring which moved my energies lay far away beyond seas, in an Indian isle. ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#emmanuel #energy #faraway-love #lucy-snow #separation

I'm very much a bit of a ghost presence. ↗

— Eric Bana

#ghost #i #much #presence #very

The sense of love should not like coffee, which only gives pleasure to the enjoy. But it must be like oranges which not only give pleasure but also freshness. ↗

— Isra

#freshness #love #oranges #pleasure #sense-of-love

I whispered into his ear, “Erik...” There was no response from him. “Erik.” My voice was a little bit firmer. I pushed at his shoulders making sure that my hands were well away from his re-opened wound. He weighed more than I did. I couldn’t get out from under him. God, I’m stuck inside of him ...like a dog. “Erik.” I tried to wriggle out from under him. I grew hard. I stilled horrified as my body took pleasure in this situation. I tried to shift his leg over. I thrust into him. Oh... I thrust again. I was hovering around the panic state but lust was driving all thoughts out of my mind. The more I struggled to free myself... I fucked him. I screwed an unconscious man. What kind of man was I? I couldn’t stop. The thwap, thwap sound of me burying my full length inside him hammered at my head. Don’t do this... don’t do.... nnnngghgghhh. I came deep within him. ↗

— Derekica Snake

#love

All the June Saturday afternoon Sam Pollit's children were on the lookout for him as they skated round the dirt sidewalks and seamed old asphalt of R Street and Reservoir Road that bounded the deep-grassed acres of Tohoga House, their home. ↗

— Christina Stead

#home

‎"..love is as complex an emotion as exists. There are many reasons why love does not prosper. .. the waters are perilous, and you would do well to know that, because unlike your novels, not every story has a happy ending. ↗

— Mary Lydon Simonsen

#lydon #mary #simonsen #love

Lei aveva scoperto a poco a poco l'incertezza dei passi del marito, i turbamenti d'umore, le crepe della memoria, l'abitudine recenti di singhiozzare nel sonno, ma non li aveva considerati segni inequivocabili della ruggine finale, bensì un ritorno felice all'infanzia. Per questo non lo trattava come un vecchio difficile ma come un bambino senile, e quell'inganno era stato provvidenziale per entrambi avendoli messi in salvo dalla compassione. ↗

— Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

#senilità #love

Our past cannot be changed, and to be preoccupied with it is inefficient in time and effort. Likewise, by fretting over the future, we only exhaust ourselves, making us less able to effectively respond when the future is actually upon us. By worrying about a mishap that may or may not take place, we’re forced to undergo the event twice—once when imagining it and once again if and when we actually experience it. ↗

— H.E. Davey

#meditation #past #present #worrying #yoga

I’m not the only one. I can feel your sadness even though you try to hide it, Sky. I wish I knew how to make it go away. ↗

— Summer Yaxley

#damon-christensen #love #new-adult #romance #the-route-to-opportunity

When we pray, instead of trying to produce love in our souls toward God, we should be basking in God's love for us. How foolish to stay indoors in the cold, dark little room off the self, trying to turn on the light and turn up the heat, when we can just go outside into God's glorious Sonlight and receive his rays! How silly to fuss with artificial tanning salons and lotions and lights when the Son is out! ↗

— Peter Kreeft

#prayer #presence #sonlight #love