Quotes About Temptation

Both lyrically and sonically, glam metal is the sensible accompaniment for removing one's pants for money.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

After a good-looking boy gives you rabies two, three times, you'll settle down and marry somebody less exciting for the rest of your life

All human beings search for either reasons to be good, or excuses to be bad.

When you go out with a drunk, you'll notice how a drunk fills your glass so he can empty his own. As long as you're drinking, drinking is okay. Two's company. Drinking is fun. If there's a bottle, even if your glass isn't empty, a drunk, he'll pour a little in your glass before he fills his own. This only looks like generosity.

It doesn't matter for crap that you've got three years of sobriety or that you finally look good in a two-piece bathing suit or you've met that perfect someone and you've fallen deeply, wildly, passionately in love. Today, as you pick up your dry cleaning, fax those reports, fold your laundry, or wash the dinner dishes, something you'd never expect is already stalking you.

All these people who say they want a life free from sexual compulsion, I mean forget it. I mean, what could ever be better than sex? For sure, even the worst blow job is better than, say, sniffing the best rose . . . watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh. I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut-hosing orgasm. Painting a picture, composing an opera, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass.

The way to get a babe to act in a blue movie is you offer her a million dollars. The way to get a dude is you just have to ask him.

And I say no. The problem is the light, the dim light down here. Cupped in the palm of my hand, the cyanide and the wood pill, I can't tell which is which. What's sex and what's death—I can't tell the difference. I ask which one to give her. And Mr. Bacardi leans in to look, both of us breathing hot, damp air into my open hand.

In the movie where somebody is invisible all the sudden—you know, a nuclear radiation fluke or a mad scientist recipe—and you think, what would I do if I was invisible...? Like go into the guy's locker room at Gold's Gym or, better yet, the Oakland Raiders' locker room. Stuff like that. Scope things out. Go to Tiffany's and shoplift diamond tiaras and stuff.

Face it, dude. You nearly did sex on God's table. You're already shame spiralling big-time.

All humans search for either reasons to be good or excuses to be bad.

Elders of the Creedish church made celibacy sound as easy as choosing not to play basketball. Just say no.

There's no escaping from constant escape.

Even the garden of Eden was just a big fancy cage," Adam says. "You'll be a slave the rest of your life unless you bite the apple.

Anche il giardino dell'Eden non era nient'altro che una grande gabbia di lusso dice Adam. Resterai uno schiavo per il resto della tua vita, a meno che tu non morda la mela.

When you go out with a drunk, you'll notice how a drunk fills your glass so he can empty his own. As long as you're drinking, drinking is okay.

Píse? Å alamounova, kapitola 7., verÅ¡ 2: Pupek tv?j jako koflík okrouhlý, ne bez nápoje; bÃ…â"¢icho tvé jako stoh pÅ¡enice obrostlý kvítím. V Bibli se v?bec dost míchá sex s jídlem.

Esistono un'infinità di modi per suicidarsi senza morire. Una era guardarti baciarla.

Její hlas mÄ› pÃ…â"¢imÄ›je myslet na její ústa mÄ› pÃ…â"¢imÄ›jí myslet na její dech mÄ› pÃ…â"¢imÄ›je myslet na její prsy.

Con todo, uno puede ser un chaval que se la está cascando y al cabo de un momento ya nunca podrá ser abogado.

I was in a mood to destroy something beautiful

What you have to love about drinking is, every swallow is an irrevocable decision. You charging ahead, in control if the game. It's the same with pills, sedatives and painkillers, every swallow us a first definite step down some road.

For sure, even the worst blow job is better than, say, sniffing the best rose . . . watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh. I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut-hosing orgasm. Painting a picture, composing an opera, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass.