Sensuality Quotes - Page 2

So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.

I want to be the victim of his errors.

... since I was still, and must for long remain, in that period of life when one has not yet separated the fact of this sensual pleasure from the various women in whose company one has tasted it, when one has not reduced it to a general idea which makes one regard them thenceforward as the variable instruments of a pleasure that is always the same. Indeed, that pleasure does not exist, isolated and formulated in the consciousness, as the ultimate object with which one seeks a woman's company, or as the cause of the uneasiness which, in anticipation, one then feels. Hardly even does one think of oneself, but only how to escape from oneself.

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

Molly Bloom is simply the most sensuous woman in literature.

Sensual and spiritual are not easy words to use; that there are, perhaps, not twoAphrodites, but one Aphrodite with a Janus face.

Love falls in love with love; comes like an echo sounding back, searches its mirrored shadow within a look.

I love being aroused. I love how that feeling overcomes me, as I look at a man’s erect cock, as I feel his hands ripping my clothes from my body, as the air caresses my naked skin, and how I feel like I’m blossoming like a flower.

To me the erotic is the relationship that organically manifests itself between people finding and exploring love. It is the universality of accepting the darkness that makes up human nature, the darkness I find so romantic within that dance, the inevitable opening up that lets in the light of sensuality between two human beings becoming one together without the confines of preconceived morality. In short, an exploration of all the facets of both the subconscious and conscious of light and dark. “Emotional connectedness.

Ô, Wanderess, WanderessWhen did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

Knowledge is not obtained through being absorbed in a book, it comes when you brush aside fantasies and sensuality, switching from the unreal to the real.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites; Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch’d from;The scent of these arm-pits, aroma finer than prayer; This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

Hold out your hands to feel the luxury of sunbeams. Press the soft blossoms against your cheek, and finger their graces of form, their delicate mutability of shape, their pliancy and freshness. Expose your face to the aerial floods that sweep the heavens, ‘inhale great draughts of space,’ wonder, wonder at the wind’s unwearied activity. Pile note on note the infinite music that flows increasingly to your soul from the tactual sonorities of a thousand branches and tumbling waters. How can the world be shriveled when this most profound, emotional sense, touch, is faithful to its service? I am sure that if a fairy bade me choose between the sense of sight and that of touch, I would not part with the warm, endearing contact of human hands…

In the end, Astrid couldn’t do anything about my . . . turning into light, but she made a prediction. She said the sun would help me and I would be cured thanks to its efforts.’‘The sun?’‘Yes. It was the symbol I drew from among the runes. Astrid says it represents . . .’ ‘What?’ he said, looking at me curiously, and I could see that he really wanted to hear the answer. I became embarrassed. ‘It’s not important . . .’ I muttered. ‘Please tell me!’ He turned fully towards me and I could feel myself blushing pink. ‘The . . . man in my life.’I was done for. My heart was beating heavily but Elijah, for the first time since I had awoken, smiled. I was incredibly ashamed of myself, so I made to go back to the house, but the Dark Angel grabbed my wrist.

What would you like to do with my neck?’ I asked. ‘Seduce me with your words. Feel free.

We thought everything would be forgotten, but I still remember yourclaws running down my back.I wonder if you still think about us,the way I do.How our legs would crash into each other in the middle of the night, and how we endedup creating the moon in the confines of our beds.

A man is not for you when all he knows is to slam your back on the bed and ram into you like a wild fool. The interested ones are the ones so interested that they become very interested in only interesting things about you.

Once I had a wild fling on an otherwise boring weekend holiday in Edinburgh, with a guy I met who turned out to be a psychiatrist. He agreed with me, after hours and hours of our naked cavorting in a hotel, that I was a sex addict; although he did stress he wouldn’t change me for the world. It turned him on that I was so sexual, and we turned a dull weekend in a grey city into something wonderful for the two of us.So, what was the problem?

He was the kind of man I wanted: wild, hot, horny, and losing control. And it all pointed back to me, about how much I felt in control of him, with the power of my body.I felt so in control of him; it was dizzying, and intoxicating.

To reclaim our natural power and this birthright of real magic, we must get naked and face ourselves.The truth of Who You Really Are is vast. It is genius. It crackles with electricity and sensuality and other forbidden, dangerous things. You have longed for it all your life. You catch glimpses of it from the corner of your eye. A riff of music reminds you, a surge of ecstasy during sex brings you home, a crisp Autumn wind carries some long forgotten scent which thrills you for inexplicable reasons. A thousand tiny hints show up to seduce you awake and lead you back into your true nature, but they flee when you try to grasp them and leave you wondering if you were just imagining things. You weren’t though. This quality of richness and balance and home is Who You Really Are. That is the kingdom we seek and it waits for us to find it. It wants us to regain our rightful place.

Ah, lust. It makes us forget anything we want to. The greatest relaxant, the greatest stimulant.

You know, there’s no pleasure like the joy of being a sexual woman. You can take your careers, your money, your houses and possessions, and you go and throw them in a lake. Because life is really all about sex. That’s what I keep learning, again and again. It’s the most important thing, woven into the very centre of life. And I just know I was put on this earth to be a sexual woman, and to explore as much about sex as I can.

Excuse me,’ I said cheerily. ‘Is the job still going?’ I pointed to the notice.‘Of course,’ he said, looking back at me with a warm smile. I think he was as hopeful as I was about where this could lead to. ‘We need all the hands we can get.’I looked at the tight swell of his shirt against his chest, and thought, 'Mmm, yes, I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of

You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses together, an enveloping sense itself sensuous, as if all the body made sense.

Guy’s whole body was humming. Normally he thought only of his head – his eyes, his smile – and was aware of his body as merely the principle of forward propulsion trundling him along. But now he was all these bright pools of sensuality – his nipples, his half-hard cock, his tingling anus, even his feet. He was glowing all over and he felt the animal in him was longing to shed its clothes.

The flesh is sad, alas, and I have read all the books.

Now come the whispersbearing bouquets of moonbeamsand sunlight tremblings.

SAUL: 'We made love outdoors, my favorite place to make love, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with sweat.

If anything is sacred, the human body is sacred.

his stubble was cut smooth. he smelled of aftershave, dry deodorant and sex-tarnished bedsheets. those eyes--grey, strong, inlaid beneath a firm brow that displayed such hate and SUCH love--they seduced her every time... but not tonight.

I stood in front of him, frustratedly imagining his naked muscular chest, and wanting his hot cock to spear me. My nipples were aroused, feeling as hard and long as coat hooks. They prodded fiercely through the thin blue material at him, like little calling signs of how horny and ready for sex I was. The best advertisement of all: erect nipples!

Could it be, as one writer puts it, that every knock at the door of a brothel is actually a knock at the heart of God?

I don’t have a philosophy: I have senses...If I talk about Nature, it’s not because I know what it is,But because I love it, and that’s why I love it,Because when you love you never know what you love,Or why you love, or what love is.Loving is eternal innocence,And the only innocence is not thinking.

Listening to Beethoven also is sensuality, but when you have said 'sex' you have said all. A man who can give up sex can give up Beethoven.

He knew that if Michelle entered into the walls of the Vatican, she’d corrupt every single clergyman within, causing them to forsake their vows in trade for a few moments with her. With one glance men would happily follow her to the bowels of hell and swim across the lake of fire to get to her.

She was made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds.