欧宝娱乐

“But one mustn't underestimate the primal appeal鈥攖o lose one's self, lose it utterly. And in losing it be born to the principle of continuous life, outside the prison of mortality and time.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“He acts like an animal, has an animal's habits! Eats like one, moves like one, talks like one! There's even something -sub-human -something not quite to the stage of humanity yet! Yes, something - ape-like about him, like one of those pictures I've seen in - anthropological studies! Thousands and thousands of years have passed him right by, and there he is - Stanley Kowalski - survivor of the Stone Age! Bearing the raw meat home from the kill in the jungle! And you - you here - waiting for him! Maybe he'll strike you or maybe grunt and kiss you! That is, if kisses have been discovered yet! Night falls and the other apes gather! There in the front of the cave, all grunting like him, and swilling and gnawing and hulking! His poker night! - you call it - this party of apes! Somebody growls - some creature snatches at something - the fight is on! God! Maybe we are a long way from beng made in God's image, but Stella - my sister - there has been some progress since then! Such things as art - as poetry and music - such kinds of new light have come into the world since then! In some kinds of people some tendered feelings have had some little beginning! That we have got to make grow! And cling to, and hold as our flag! In this dark march towards what-ever it is we're approaching . . . Don't - don't hang back with the brutes!”
― Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire

“If there is no love, what is there?" she cried, almost jeering.

"There is," he said, in a voice of pure abstraction, "a final me which is stark and impersonal and beyond responsibility. So there is a final you. And it is there I would want to meet you-not in the emotional loving plane-but there beyond, where there is no speech and no terms of agreement. There we are two stark, unknown beings, two utterly strange creatures, I would want to approach you, and you me. And there could be no obligation, because there is no standard for action there, because no understanding has been reaped from that plane. It is quite inhuman-so there can be no calling to book, in any form whatsoever-because one is outside the pale of all that is accepted, and nothing known applies. On can only follow the impulse, taking that which lies in front, and responsible for nothing, asked for nothing, giving nothing, only each taking according to the primal desire.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Women in Love

“But a smell shivered him awake.
It was a scent as old as the world. It was a hundred aromas of a thousand places. It was the tang of pine needles. It was the musk of sex. It was the muscular rot of mushrooms. It was the spice of oak. Meaty and redolent of soil and bark and herb. It was bats and husks and burrows and moss. It was solid and alive - so alive! And it was close.
The vapors invaded Nicholas' nostrils and his hair rose to their roots. His eyes were as heavy as manhole covers, but he opened them. Through the dying calm inside him snaked a tremble of fear.
The trees themselves seemed tense, waiting. The moonlight was a hard shell, sharp and ready to ready be struck and to ring like steel.
A shadow moved.
It poured like oil from between the tall trees and flowed across dark sandy dirt, lengthening into the middle of the ring. Trees seem to bend toward it, spellbound. A long, long shadow...”
― Stephen M. Irwin, The Dead Path

“He called to her primal side; the ancient aspect of her animal self that wanted to submit. It wanted to submit to him; to sacrifice all of who she was at the altar of his maleness and lay herself bare for his taking.”
― Dianna Hardy, Releasing The Wolf

“Our first experience of life is primarily felt in the *body.* ... We know ourselves in the security of those who hold us and gaze upon us. It's not heard or seen or thought it's felt. That's the original knowing.”
― Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer

“Every kind of language is... specialized form of bodily gesture, and in this sense it may be said that the dance is the mother of all languages... an original language of total bodily gesture.

This "original" language of total bodily gesture is thus the one and only real language, which everybody who is in any way expressing himself is using all the time. What we call speech and the other kinds of language are only parts of it which have undergone specialized development.”
― R.G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art

“It was not exasperation.... It was anger for the relentless force of evolution that insisted on endowing man with increased powers without removing the vestigial vices that prevented him from using them.”
― Alfred Bester, The Demolished Man

“Something primal was awake within her, a violent will to live as old as the universe itself.”
― Lucas Mangum, Dark of Night - Flesh and Fire

“Some primal force roared inside him, his possessive streak taking charge. He cupped the back of her head, her hair falling over the back of his hand like silk, and tightened his grip. The moment she softened against him, he took control.”
― Leah Braemel, Slow Ride Home

“...impulses are flowing through my brain - primal sparks leaping gaps - all so I can put my arms around you...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“A stream of primal voices
Whispering in the breeze of your heart
To urge you on.”
― Scott Hastie

“Despite the gentlemanly kiss, a ferocity burned behind his gaze promising something primal.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Stolen Petals

“Cynnie鈥檚 disappeared while I鈥檝e shut up shop. So has Ty, without even giving me a hug. He鈥檚 getting a dozen noogies for that the next time I see him. I lock up, checking and double-checking my security. On the way back from checking the manual lock on the fire escape door, I find the dress Cynnie was wearing draped across the foot of the staircase up into the loft like a fallen flower petal.
鈥淏补产测?鈥�
Her wild giggle answers me.
Grinning, I scoop up the dress and carry it up the stairs.
I expect her to be n*ked in the bed, but she鈥檚 not. There鈥檚 no sign of her.
鈥淏aby, where are you?鈥�
Another wild giggle. With the open plan of my apartment, the stairwell, and the screen of trees in the loft, the acoustics can be weird. I was sure the first giggle came from upstairs. Now, it sounds like her giggle is coming from downstairs.
鈥淐ome out, come out, wherever you are, bumble baby,鈥� I call.
Insane giggles. I spin around in place on the landing, trying to locate the source of those irresistible giggles.
鈥淲hen I find you, I鈥檓 going to b*te my bumble very hard on her b*ttom,鈥� I growl.
鈥淚 sting you!鈥�
That was definitely from my bedroom. I tear through the doorway and look around. No naughty bumble in my bed. I yank open the closet doors. No naughty bumble in my closets. There aren鈥檛 many hiding places in my bedroom. There鈥檚 no way she could fit between the trees.
Then I spot the black rectangle half-hidden in the rumpled bedding. A phone. She鈥檚 put it on speaker and dimmed the screen. That sneaky little bee.
I grab the phone and growl into it. 鈥淚鈥檓 going to find you.鈥�
鈥淚 fly away!鈥�
鈥淵ou鈥檒l never get away from me, little girl. And when I catch you, I鈥檓 going to eat you up.鈥� I grip the phone, so turned on my hand shakes, muscles bunching. I pant into the phone. 鈥淚鈥檓 going to find you, wherever you are, and rail you into the ground.鈥�
She squees. There鈥檚 a very faint echo, and I realize where she is.
Game on.”
― E.J. Frost, Max's Bumble

“Seeing the God statement

Suppose the statement Blessed
Are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God were placed like a wreath of violets,
Lilies, laurel, and olive, blossoms strung together
Like words in a sentence, a garland
Launched, set out on a flowing creek

Imagine that wreath carried
Down the frothy rapids, tossed, floating
Slipping over water-smooth, moss-colored
Boulders, in and out of slow, dark pools,
Through poplar and willow shadows. It dips,
Sinks momentarily, emerges, travels, maitains
Its ring, its declaration and syntax.

At times it widens in a broad, deep
Current, makes sense as a gift.
The pure becomes inclusive, spatial,
Generous. God and heart are two
Spread wings of one open reading.

And at times it narrows, restricts.
Violets and heart entangle
With God. The blessed braces,
Overlaps lilies and laurel.

Still, at any point you might
reach down yourself, catch that ring
of blossoms, lift it up, wear
its beauty and blooming distinction
across your forehead. Look into a mirror.
See what you can see.”
― Pattiann Rogers, Quickening Fields

“Grace."
He drew out the word so it became a long, deep, guttural growl. A sound as primitive as a lion's roar for its mate. Her skin prickled with animal awareness and the breath caught in her throat. Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth. Low in her belly, blood began to beat slow and hard with anticipation.
Her face must have betrayed her unfurling arousal. Or perhaps, like her, he reacted to the sudden charge in the air, as electric as the pause before a lightning strike.
Still without shifting his fierce focus, he set down the box he carried. Then he reached to close the doors and slide the bolt across.
Any doubt as to his purpose fled. A delicious thrill rippled through her. The summerhouse was raised on a platform so the windows opened above eye height. With the doors locked, it was a bower designed for private sin.
Sin was clearly his aim.
Now she looked more closely, she realized it wasn't anger that tightened the skin over the bones of his face. It was incendiary hunger.
She should protest. Question. Demand he tell her why he was here. But overwhelming need kept her silent and pinned to the window seat.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched

“Great moments are full of naked vulnerability, words merely reflect a primal or instinctual footprints that leaves trails of dust for those brave enough to follow”
― Val Uchendu

“Through the window I looked across the oil-black Tigris at the Green Zone, lit up like Disneyland in Dystopia. I thought about J.G. Ballard's novel High Rise, where a state-of-the-art London tower block is the vertical stage for civilization to unpeel itself until nothing but primal violence remains.”
― David Mitchell, The Bone Clocks

“When we perceive danger or a threat, and we need to act instantaneously, instinct kicks in. Instinct is the master of self-preservation. It is primal.”
― Zamm Zamudio, Intuition: Discover the Inner Workings of our World - Book 1

“When she drew near, the rich musk of him wrapped her again: shaving soap, ale, and that delicious, darker something---him. It might as well have been opium for what it did to the run of her thoughts.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“An organic cookie, is still a cookie.”
― Gary Collins, Primal Power Method: Change Your Body. Change Your Life. The Modern Caveman Lifestyle Simplified

“The look on her father's face touched something primal in me. He didn't seem to like me, so I decided I didn't like him right back. It was a response that had been grafted onto my bones as a child: that weak people get hurt and strong people get even.”
― Mary Anna King, Bastards: A Memoir

“He wasn鈥檛 walking to find his own identity, or to rediscover a disguised singularity, or to get a rest from shuffling masks; but walking long distances to find in himself the man from another age, the first man. Walking, but not as one might go to the desert to escape the world and its horrors, purified by solitude, prepared for one鈥檚 celestial destiny. But walking to find in himself the man fresh from the hands of Nature, the absolute primitive.”
― Fr茅d茅ric Gros, A Philosophy of Walking

“Strategically placed spotlights illuminated the garden, and when she moved in front of one I could see the outline of her body through her filmy nightgown. She was curvy and woman-like, but her aura exuded innocence.
In the past twenty-two days I had convinced myself that I was wrong, that it was curiosity or my quest for a story that fanned those sparks that had been dead in me for so long. But now, here, I knew it was a primal attraction I hadn't felt since Willa- the sleepless nights with her, the sleepless nights without her.”
― Alex Brunkhorst, The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine

“The best move here is to simply listen and maintain eye contact. Your calmness is a primal attempt to telepathically reflect the insanity back to the freak so they鈥檒l realize they鈥檝e gone off the deep end. This can be rough because the freakout may be pointed directly at you, but even under attack, your job is the same: Listen. Nod. Repeat”
― Michael Lopp, Managing Humans: Biting and Humorous Tales of a Software Engineering Manager

“The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Lucien's red hair gleamed like the leaves above us as he scanned the woods for anything to fill our bellies.

His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here... He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye.

Lucien eventually stopped at a jade stream wending through a granite-flanked gully, a spot he claimed had once been rich with trout.

I was in the process of constructing a rudimentary fishing pole when he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He'd tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I'd been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine.

We remained silent as the fish eventually stopped flapping, their sides catching and gleaming with all the colours so bright above us.

Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he'd done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. 'I'll clean them while you start the fire.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I can unleash my subconscious primal wildness to unravel any negative conditioning.”
― Leo Lourdes, A World of Yoga: 700 Asanas for Mindfulness and Well-Being