Tom Robbins Quotes

Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one's wall, even if only for a moment, a moment before one immures oneself again.

It's awkward: Here you are with most of your clothes off in bed with this person who you've really just met. You're strangers to each other's bodies and you're coming together for the first time in front of all these people.

Sex with my first boyfriend was a little bit like learning how to put in a tampon, but only half as enjoyable!

Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.

He closed his eyes and let out a jagged breath. "Okay." He settled between my legs holding himself over me. "I've never been with a virgin, Eva. I'm going to try real hard not to hurt you." "Will it hurt you?" I asked, thinking about his pained expression when he'd said I was too tight. He smiled, "It's going to be the closest to heaven I'll ever get, baby.

I was 29 and I really fell in love, I think, for the first time. I was vulnerable in a way I didn't think I could be.

I remember I had a fight with my friend when I touched a boy for the first time and I didn't tell her. She got mad with me, not because I didn't tell her but because I'd done it in the first place.

Writing is a very intimate thing, especially when you write lyrics and sing them in front of someone for the first time. It's like a really embarrassing situation. To me, singing is almost like crying, and you have to really know someone before you can start crying in front of them.

It was the first time I had ever made love. I wondered if he knew that. It felt like crying. I wondered, Why does anyone ever make love?

Then there was sex, which, for me, was such a need. When I was younger, I had a need to have sex with everyone. I don't know where that was coming from, but there was such a need to connect physically - obviously, for me to connect physically to myself. There were times, like I say in the book, where you lay on top of me, when you push me down, when you're inside me.

All you have to do is open your heart, just like you opened your legs.

Closeness can lead to emotions other than love. It's the ones who have been too intimate with you, lived in too close quarters, seen too much of your pain or envy or, perhaps more than anything, your shame, who, at the crucial moment, can be too easy to cut out, to exile, to expel, to kill off.

I-" said Nick, his voice halting. "I don't mind it as much when - when people touch me. Some people." Mae looked down, and Nick, who looked more relaxed when he'd been stabbed, slowly lifted his hand from his chest and laid it on the tumbled sheets between them, fingers half-curled into his palm. He was still regarding the ceiling with a fixed glare. "Because you trust them not to hurt you?" Mae asked tentatively. "No," Nick said, his voice harsh. "Because I'd let them hurt me.

You can only be a virgin once. There can only be one first time.

The first five times that you bang someone and the last million times are two different worlds.

There's nothing special about losing your virginity over a toilet.

You’re going to tell me that last night shouldn’t have happened.” No. I’m glad it happened. For too long, I’ve been telling myself that I could spend all this time with yo and flirt with you and not have it mean anything. It does mean something. You mean something to me. But I’m not in love with you.

Sex is really only touch, the closest of all touch. And it's touch we're afraid of.

Lovemaking seems all too absurd when described.

How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.

They wanted genuine intimacy, but they could not get even normally near to anyone, because they scorned to take the first steps, they scorned the triviality which forms common human intercourse.

Sex scenes are always a little uncomfortable at first.

The pain that we feel when we are making love with someone is that we know it will end. It's that paradoxical response of joy and suffering.

She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.

For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.