There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother.
To me, novels are just quotations with a bunch of filler.
Most animals, including most domesticated primates (humans) show a truly staggering ability to "ignore" certain kinds of information — that which does not "fit" their imprinted/conditioned reality-tunnel. We
generally call this "conservatism" or "stupidity", but it appears in all parts of the political spectrum, and in learned societies as well as in the Ku Klux Klan.
The Talking Oak
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
Beyond the lodge the city lies,
Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.
For when my passion first began,
Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;
To yonder oak within the field
I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appeal'd
Than Papist unto Saint.
[...] Read more
I want to make love, be in love, sow silly and wonderful seeds of carnal desire. Growing giddy in the windy shadows of brittle leaves, I have a powerful need to dally with what is plump, voluptuous, kinky....
When I think of you,
fireflies in the marsh rise
like the soul’s jewels,
lost to eternal longing,
abandoning my body.
The Surpris’d Nymph
The four and twentieth day of May,
Of all days in the year;
A Virgin Lady fresh and gay,
Did privately appear:
Hard by a River side got she,
And did sing loud the rather;
Cause she was sure, she was secure,
And had intent to bathe her.
With glittering, glancing, jealous Eyes,
She slyly looks about;
To see if any lurking Spies
Were hid to find her out:
And being well resolved that none,
Could see her Nakedness,
She pulled her Robes off one by one,
And did her self undress.
Her purple Mantle fring’d with Gold,
Her Ivory Hands unpinned;
[...] Read more
Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.
Spring forest flowers are so charming.
Spring birds pour out grief.
Spring winds come with exuberant love—
they lift up my silk skirt.
Fragrant with powder or moist with perspiration,
They are the pegs of a jade-inlaid harp.
Aroused by spring, they are soft as cream
Under the fertilizing mist.
After my bath my perfumed lover
Holds them and plays with them,
And they are cool as peonies and purple grapes.