John Wilmot Quotes

We made love. How pedestrian the words look-trite, worn, practically featureless with use-but how can one better describe that which happens when it happens? That creation? That magic blending? I might say we became figures in a mesmerized dance before the rocking talisman of the moon, starting slow, so slow... a pair of feathers drifting through clear liquid substance of sky... gradually accelerating, faster and faster and finally into photon existence of pure light... as my whole straining body burst like fluid electricity into hers.

I'm gonna make love to you like fifteen men.

The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

Before we make love my husband takes a pain killer.

While I had often said that I wanted to die in bed, what I really meant was that in my old age I wanted to be stepped on by an elephant while making love.

The physical mechanics of sex are pretty funny unless you are engaged in them. Then they are, of course, marvelous.

The first undressing of two lovers is a most special event.

Anyone who calls it "sexual intercourse" can't possibly be interested in actually doing it. You might as well announce you're ready for lunch by proclaiming, "I'd like to do some masticating and enzyme secreting."

You just came wild and sexy all over my hand and even left some claw marks on my back to prove it. Don’t go getting shy on me now. ‘Cause baby, before the night is over you will be naked in my bed.

Only the united beat of sex and heart can create ecstasy.

When a man's making love, the last thing he thinks about is war.

When you make love, you must be making love.

Two people making love, she once said, are like one drowned person resuscitating the other.

We turned on one another deep, drowned gazes, and exchanged a kiss that reduced my bones to rubber and my brain to gruel.

No music while making love... the sound of the love being made is better than music.

I didn't understand that when you make love, you actually do MAKE love. Stir things. Affect each other. The breath that escapes from me is dazzled. He breathes it in with a gasp.

She let him come further, his lips came and surging, surging, soft, oh soft, yet on, like the powerful surge of water, irresistible, till with a little blind cry, she broke away.

Making love without noise is like playing a muted piano-fine for practice, but you cheat yourself out of hearing the glorious results.

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you." "Why? Was kissing me that bad?" A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.

It's the right time of the night for making love.

Poetry and painting are done in the same way you make love; it's an exchange of blood, a total embrace - without caution, without any thought of protecting yourself.

I kissed him once," she whispered. "Well done. What did he do?" "Um..." Deryn sighed. "He woke up.

Been making love for hours and, baby, we're still going strong. Girl, this night is ours and I swear I feel it coming on. All I know is when we get through, I ain't going to be able to move.

The intercourse of the sexes, I have dreamed, is incredibly beautiful, too fair to be remembered. I have had thoughts about it, but they are among the most fleeting and irrecoverable in my experience.