Quotes About Fantasy

Nightly awaits that sweet address Principality of Sleep Happy Land of Forgetfullness

It's funny about imagination, how it

You can't just pick up a gun and become a gunfighter, or go off and explore for a new world, or pull a sword out of a stone, or rescue a damsel in distress, or-- so we play games and we read books because the world isn't the world we thought we were supposed to get, the world we thought we'd been promised by somebody. Because things didn't turn out the way they were supposed to. So we go someplace else.

What she wanted was really two things: to be elsewhere, and to be somebody else. Or at least a version of herself that had made better decisions, that had thought more clearly.

Lots of people think things would be better some other way. That's why the world's lousy with theme parks.

Eve: What do you want? Nadine: A man of amazing sexual prowess, great sensitivity, stupendous abs, and the face of an angel. Toss in a wicked sense of humor and stupendous wealth, who adores the very ground I walk on. Oh wait, you already have him.

I've decided being eaten alive by anything is my last choice of causes of death." "What's first choice?" "Kicking it at two hundred and twenty, minutes after being sexually satisfied by my thirty-five-year-old Spanish lover, and his twin brother." "There's something to be said for that

You know what happens to people who longingly imagine having things they can't afford?" "Happy dreams?" "A life of crime.

Not like Peabody and her sexual fantasies. I mean, Jesus." "Why that slut. I thought I was her sexual fantasy." Relieved with how he'd played it, she gave him a bland stare as they stepped into the bedroom. "You lead the charge, but apparently Peabody's got the capacity for lots of fantasy partners. Probably all at the same time." "Hmm. Interesting.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.   —William Shakespeare

She sat down, grinned—and made her lip throb again. "I love you." "Excellent news. You can prove it with lots of sex." "We had sex a few hours ago." "No, we made love a few hours ago—angels surely wept. I want sex for this job, as it's given me a buggering headache trying to straddle your far-famed line. I want mad sex, with costumes—maybe props—and an intriguing story line." "Milking it, pal.

And I want a mansion in Connecticut with a pool boy named Steve.

Erotica so he'd last longer.

Unimaginable perhaps; but the unimaginable is there to be imagined.

But then in dreams we are always children.

Okay. Right. Horror meets romance meets erotica meets fantasy meets hip hop. Throw in some leather and some Miami Ink shit, stir with a baseball bat and a tire iron, sprinkle on some baby powder, and serve over a hot bed of Holy-Mary-mother-of-God-this-has-to-work-or-I'm-going-to-be-a-lawyer-for-the-rest-of-my-natural-life. No problem. (J.R. Ward on the elements of writing the Black Dagger Brotherhood)

Although she was ashamed to admit it now, the darkness in him had been the largest part of his allure. It was such an anomaly, a contrast to what she'd known from life. It had made him dangerous. Exciting. Sexy. But that was a fantasy. This was real. He suffered. And there was nothing sexy or thrilling about that. (Zsadists & Bella)

Next time you think of me like that , say my name when you come. It'll get you off even better.

Rhage! You have a dragon! A pet dragon! I got to rub his tummy!

In so many ways, he had wanted this his whole life—or at least ever since he'd survived his transition and had any sexual impulse at all. This moment was the culmination of countless daydreams and innumerable fantasies, his secret desire made manifest.

In his fantasy, he kissed his best friend again, pulled back, and… "I love you," he said into the spray of the shower. "I… love you." As he closed his eyes against the pain, it was hard to know how much of what ran down his cheeks was water, and how much was something else.

Vampire porn does not go out of style.

What was said about him, what the females needed to believe about him, was just oral masturbation for mouths that needed to be otherwise occupied.

Well, too bad, boys—life wasn't an epi of Doctor Who. And you know what?