Quotes About Pleasure

The right to dispose of her body however they wished, in whatever place or manner they should choose, the right to keep her in chains, the right to whip her like a slave or prisoner for the slightest failing or infraction, or simply for their pleasure, the right to pay no heed to her pleas and cries, if they should make her cry out.

I'd like an armchair for the bedroom," he murmured. "What do we need an armchair in the bedroom for?" she said. "We have a couch outside." "Buy the chair and I'll show you." After the chair was delivered, he undressed her and kneeled between her legs upraised on the chair arms. Afterward she agreed it was money well spent.

It's only life but I like it

Que tanto gusto había en quejarse, un filósofo decía, que, a trueco de quejarse, habían las desdichas de buscarse.

For there is such a pleasure in complaining, That a philosopher I've heard maintaining One ought to seek a sorrow and be vain of it, In order to be privileged to complain of it.

I also worry about the incessant drumbeat of self-objectification: the pressure on young women to reduce their worth to their bodies and to see those bodies as a collection of parts that exist for others' pleasure; to continuously monitor their appearance; to perform rather than to feel sensuality.

Nöjena utgöra lockbetet, och slutet på allt är smärta.

eating chocolates, or lying in the sun; it was soothing, warming, totally pleasing.

Constancy has nothing virtuous in itself, independently of the pleasure it confers, and partakes of the temporizing spirit of vice in proportion as it endures tamely moral defects of magnitude in the object of its indiscreet choice.

Let me set my mournful dittyTo a merry measure;Thou wilt never come for pity,Thou wilt come for pleasure.

Sorrow, terror, anguish, despair itself are often the chosen expressions of an approximation to the highest good. Our sympathy in tragic fiction depends on this principle; tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain. This is the source also of the melancholy which is inseparable from the sweetest melody. The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

I love all waste and solitary places; where we taste the pleasure of believing what we see. Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.

Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death - and we are death. Death has set his mark and seal On all we are and all we feel, On all we know and all we fear, First our pleasures die - and then Our hopes, and then our fears - and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust - and we die too. All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves must fade and perish; Such is our rude mortal lot - Love itself would, did they not.

On a natural system of diet, old age would be our last and our only malady: the term of our existence would be protracted; we should enjoy life, and no longer preclude others from the enjoyment of it; all sensational delights would be infinitely more exquisite and perfect; the very sense of being would then be a continued pleasure, such as we now feel it in some few and favoured moments of our youth.

I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.

The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

Take up something that you know will never bring you any returns except pleasure—in other words, allow yourself to live the way brilliant eighteenth century courtesans lived. Don't be afraid of having a decorative life, even if all the decorations come from you.

To love women. To pleasure them, to make them laugh. To be foolish for them. To protect them. To respect them. To listen to them. They are life-givers. To live is to love them.

Where's the incentive to be frugal with life's pleasures, to save up the pages in your favourite book for later, if you're going to be plunged into the darkened abyss at some arbitrary hour? If life is a book, then read it while you can. Don't save up any pages for later, because there might not be one.

Some of the most beautiful things of life – sex, food, exercise, conversation, learning, and work – lose their quality because our frenzied pace makes it impossible to savor them. Rarely do we slow down long enough to digest the full pleasure of these activities.

The public never appears to tire of endless courses of strawberries and cream, and the theory that you run the risk of boring people with endless photo montages of the Chelsea Pensioners in their dress reds, or close-ups of a Pimm's Cup sprouting all kinda of flora, has yet to be proven. People like Wimbledon in the same way they like blue jeans or even their own spouses: for the pleasure yielded by their reliable sameness.

Balzac, very much like Freud in his most speculative essay, Beyond the Pleasure Principle, discovers that the pleasure principle is inextricably bound up with its opposite, the death drive.

Yet when Raphaël envies their life of wild abandon, Aquilina's response is sobering: " 'Happy!' said Aquilina with a smile of pity, or terror, in giving the two friends a horrible look. 'Oh! You don't know what it's like to be condemned to pleasure with death in your heart.

I like life. I would not want to live forever, but for a little while, life is fine.