Anxiety

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 245 of 501 · 20 per page

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  14 ‘Thick clouds are a hiding place for Him, so that He cannot see, And He walks on the vault (circle) of the heavens.’ 15 “Will you keep to the ancient path That wicked men walked [in the time of Noah], [2 Pet 2:5 ] 16 Men who were snatched away before their time, Whose foundations were poured out like a river? 17 “They said to God, ‘Depart from us! What can the Almighty do for us or to us?’ 18 “Yet He filled their houses with good things; But the counsel of the wicked and ungodly is far from me. 19 “The righteous see it and are glad; And the innocent mock and laugh at them, saying, 20 ‘Surely our adversaries are cut off and destroyed, And fire has consumed their abundance.’ 21 “Now yield and submit yourself to Him [agree with God and be conformed to His will] and be at peace; In this way [you will prosper and great] good will come to you. 22 “Please receive the law and instruction from His mouth And establish His words in your heart and keep them. [Ps 119:11 ] 23 “If you return to the Almighty [and submit and humble yourself before Him], you will be built up [and restored]; If you remove unrighteousness far from your tents, 24 And place your gold in the dust, And the gold of Ophir among the stones of the brooks [considering it of little value], 25 And make the Almighty your gold And your precious silver, 26 Then you will have delight in the Almighty, And you will lift up your face to God. 27 “You will pray to Him, and He will hear you, And you will pay your vows. 28 “You will also decide and decree a thing, and it will be established for you; And the light [of God’s favor] will shine upon your ways. 29 “When you are cast down and humbled, you will speak with confidence, And the humble person He will lift up and save. 30 “He will even rescue the one [for whom you intercede] who is not innocent; And he will be rescued through the cleanness of your hands.” [Job 42:7 , 8 ] Job 23 Job Says He Longs for God 1 T HEN JOB answered and said, 2 “Even today my complaint is contentious; His hand is heavy despite my groaning. 3 “Oh, that I knew where I might find Him, That I might [even] come to His seat! 4 “I would present my cause before Him And fill my mouth with arguments. 5 “I would learn the words which He would answer, And understand what He would say to me. 6 “Would He contend against me with His great power? No, surely He would give attention to me. [Is 27:4 , 5 ; 57:16 ] 7 “There the righteous and upright could reason with Him; So I would be acquitted forever by my Judge.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  28 Then Abraham set apart seven ewe lambs of the flock, 29 and Abimelech said to Abraham, “What is the meaning of these seven ewe lambs which you have set apart?” 30 Abraham said, “You are to accept these seven ewe lambs from me as a witness for me, that I dug this well.” 31 Therefore that place was called Beersheba (Well of the Oath or Well of the Seven), because there the two of them swore an oath. 32 So they made a covenant at Beersheba; then Abimelech and Phicol, the commander of his army, got up and returned to the land of the Philistines. 33 Abraham planted a tamarisk tree at Beersheba, and there he called on the name of the LORD [in prayer], e the Eternal God. 34 And Abraham lived [as a resident alien] in the land of the Philistines for f many days. Genesis 22 The Offering of Isaac 1 N OW AFTER these things, God tested [the faith and commitment of] Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!” And he answered, “Here I am.” 2 God said, “Take now your son, your only son [of a promise], whom you love, Isaac, and go to the region of b Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.” 3 So Abraham got up early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; and he split the wood for the burnt offering, and then he got up and went to the place of which God had told him. 4 On the third day [of travel] Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. 5 Abraham said to his servants, “Settle down and stay here with the donkey; the c young man and I will go over there and worship [God], and we will come back to you.” [Heb 11:17–19 ] 6 Then Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and laid it d on [the shoulders of] Isaac his son, and he took the e fire (firepot) in his own hand and the [sacrificial] knife; and the two of them walked on together. 7 And Isaac said to Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” Isaac said, “Look, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” 8 Abraham said, “My son, God will provide for Himself f a lamb for the burnt offering.” So the two walked on together. 9 When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood, and bound Isaac his son and placed him on the altar, on top of the wood. [Matt 10:37 ] 10 Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to g kill his son.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  Is this a good time for you, Will? It is. We talked, and she told me she’d started a new job. It was one, then two, three, four; then five; then six o’clock. The doorbell rang. In a rush, I dropped my glass, but it was Leigh, looking uncertain. You don’t like birthdays, fine, she said. She held out a round tin, fingernails polished red. But even you have to like a fresh rhubarb tart. It isn’t a good time, I should have explained, but I asked if she wanted to come in. When Phoebe moved out last spring, I’d run into Leigh again, at Exhibit; since then, we’d shared a bed often enough that she might have expected to see me once I’d returned to Noxhurst. It’s been hectic, with school, I said, pouring the cask-strength bourbon I knew she liked. Ice slid in the glass. I meant to call, but I’ve had a lot going on. No, I figured. I just thought you could use a treat. I crouched to clean the gin I’d spilled. The glass had broken into several clean shards. Still, I wiped around the spot in case I missed a piece, and I thought of Phoebe, yes, but I was also recalling an earthquake I’d lived through when I was five, six. I’d squatted beneath the dining-room table while plates leaped from the shelves, white fragments like giant teeth gnashing toward us. With my mother’s arms around me, I felt how frightened she was, her breaths fast, but she’d sung to me, an upbeat Bizet tune with improvised English lyrics. She kept singing, heroic, to help me be less fearful, until the convulsions stopped. If I’d truly believed life began at minute zero— What is it? Leigh said. It’s nothing. I waited until she left, then I tried one last call. Phoebe’s father’s house was listed; he, too, had a landline. He picked up, to my surprise. I’d all but forgotten that dialing a phone could result in a live conversation. I asked for Phoebe. She’s at Edwards, he said. No, she isn’t, I almost said. Instead, I ended the call. I had no reason to trust him. He’d introduced them in the first place. When his office opened in the morning, I went to see Dean Pasch, the head of my hall. I waited; I looked out the window at a girl sporting a cowboy hat. She sat on the courtyard’s split-rail fence, talking with someone who, as I watched, pushed his hand beneath the back of her shirt. He moved up in slow circles. His forearm bulged from the girl’s spine, distending ribbed cloth until he exposed a tall swath of freckled skin. She should have stopped him. If I could forget about Phoebe, I’d spirit the girl away from here. To a ranch, I thought, out West, with no neighbors for miles. We’d raise a passel of freckled children, bringing them up on Plato, sunlight, and backyard peaches.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  5 “Only be very careful and diligently observe the commandment and the law which Moses the servant of the LORD has commanded you to love the LORD your God and walk in all His ways and keep His commandments and hold fast to Him and serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul [your very life].” 6 So Joshua blessed them and sent them away, and they went to their tents. 7 Now to the one-half of the tribe of Manasseh Moses had given a possession in Bashan, but to the other half Joshua gave a possession on the west side of the Jordan among their brothers. So when Joshua sent them away to their tents, he blessed them, 8 and he said to them, “Return to your tents with great riches and with very much livestock, with silver, gold, bronze, iron, and with very many clothes; divide the spoil of your enemies with your brothers (fellow tribesmen).” 9 So the sons (descendants) of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh returned home and departed from the [other] sons (western tribes) of Israel at Shiloh which is in the land of Canaan, to go to the land of Gilead, to the land of their own which they had possessed, in accordance with the command of the LORD through Moses. The Offensive Altar 10 When they came to the region of the Jordan which is in the land of Canaan, the sons of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh built an altar there by the Jordan, an altar that was great to behold. 11 And the [other] sons of Israel heard it said, “Look, the sons of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh have built an a altar at the edge of the land of Canaan, in the region [west] of the Jordan, on the side belonging to the sons of Israel.” 12 When the sons of Israel heard of it, the whole congregation of the Israelites gathered at Shiloh to make war against them. 13 Then the sons of Israel sent Phinehas the son of Eleazar the priest to the sons of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh, in the land of Gilead, 14 and with him ten leaders, one leader from each father’s household from each of the tribes of Israel; and each one was the head of his father’s household among the thousands of Israel. 15 They came to the sons of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh, in the land of Gilead, and they said to them, 16 “This is what the entire congregation of the LORD says, ‘What is this disloyal and unfaithful act which you have committed against the God of Israel, so as to turn away from following the LORD this day, by building yourselves an altar, to rebel against the LORD this day?

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  One night, months ago, I’d called Phoebe, and she kept answering, but without saying a word. I heard what sounded like static; I strained to recognize faint, mingled voices. I thought I could make out Phoebe’s, and I was frantic to think she might be injured, trying to respond but unable to talk. I hollered, asking anyone to tell me what was going on. But it was just Phoebe’s hip, picking up. I had the idea, at last, of calling others: Julian, Liesl, until I had Phoebe on the line again. What were you so worried about? she asked, laughing. Oh, Will. You’re a lunatic. I’m fine, you poor thing. I’ll be home in a little while. – The following evening, unable to face the long hours of searching online, I invited Leigh to the apartment. We sat down to stir-fried bigoli, I burned my mouth with a pull of gin, and I talked. Leigh listened, eyes filling. She stayed the night, but then, in two days, when she turned up on the doorstep without notice, I thought I’d made a mistake: I’d led the girl to expect more than I could give. The bell pealed, and I threw on a shirt, but it was Leigh. She surged up in front of me, papers in hand. I ran straight here, she panted. Flapping newsprint at me like a broken wing, she told me that, as she passed the Ledig Street kiosk, she’d noticed Phoebe’s name in bold print on the front pages. I took the papers, which showed a blurred photo of a girl who looked like Phoebe, in a baseball cap, the thin face angling up. Puzzled, I examined the picture. In it, a black-haired ponytail curled through the adjustable slot, but Phoebe disliked how she looked in hats. Unless it was so cold that she had no choice, she didn’t use hats, let alone baseball caps. What’s this? I said. It’s a picture from the Noxhurst clinic. The parking-lot camera. Will, they’re saying she planted the explosives. The ones at Phipps clinic. Well, that’s not right. You should look at this. I read the article. It didn’t mention John Leal, let alone his cult. It said that, in the video, the girl in the baseball cap walked up to the clinic, then glanced at the camera. She’d been identified as Phoebe Haejin Lin, an Edwards student. The next morning, five additional Jejah cultists were named, including a new person I didn’t recognize: all suspects, but Phoebe was still the principal culprit implicated in the Noxhurst clinic explosions, and so in the five girls’ deaths.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  I thought I could make out Phoebe’s, and I was frantic to think she might be injured, trying to respond but unable to talk. I hollered, asking anyone to tell me what was going on. But it was just Phoebe’s hip, picking up. I had the idea, at last, of calling others: Julian, Liesl, until I had Phoebe on the line again. What were you so worried about? she asked, laughing. Oh, Will. You’re a lunatic. I’m fine, you poor thing. I’ll be home in a little while. – The following evening, unable to face the long hours of searching online, I invited Leigh to the apartment. We sat down to stir-fried bigoli, I burned my mouth with a pull of gin, and I talked. Leigh listened, eyes filling. She stayed the night, but then, in two days, when she turned up on the doorstep without notice, I thought I’d made a mistake: I’d led the girl to expect more than I could give. The bell pealed, and I threw on a shirt, but it was Leigh. She surged up in front of me, papers in hand. I ran straight here, she panted. Flapping newsprint at me like a broken wing, she told me that, as she passed the Ledig Street kiosk, she’d noticed Phoebe’s name in bold print on the front pages. I took the papers, which showed a blurred photo of a girl who looked like Phoebe, in a baseball cap, the thin face angling up. Puzzled, I examined the picture. In it, a black-haired ponytail curled through the adjustable slot, but Phoebe disliked how she looked in hats. Unless it was so cold that she had no choice, she didn’t use hats, let alone baseball caps. What’s this? I said. It’s a picture from the Noxhurst clinic. The parking-lot camera. Will, they’re saying she planted the explosives. The ones at Phipps clinic. Well, that’s not right. You should look at this. I read the article. It didn’t mention John Leal, let alone his cult. It said that, in the video, the girl in the baseball cap walked up to the clinic, then glanced at the camera. She’d been identified as Phoebe Haejin Lin, an Edwards student. The next morning, five additional Jejah cultists were named, including a new person I didn’t recognize: all suspects, but Phoebe was still the principal culprit implicated in the Noxhurst clinic explosions, and so in the five girls’ deaths. The following manhunt elicited false leads in Philadelphia, then Lihue. In Detroit. Slidell. La Paz. The abandoned house where they’d stayed was discovered sixty miles north of Noxhurst, a shingled rental cabin in a birch clearing. News stations looped its photo. The cabin was still front-page news by the time I received a three-line note from Phoebe.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  Will, I’m being a friend to you. I’m asking you to promise. – During the following week, while I attended classes and counted baccalà fillets, I was always waiting until I could resume the real life I had online, staring into the laptop I’d borrowed, a glass ball of potential news. I held gin in my left hand; with the right, I kept clicking. One evening, I read about a Noxhurst mosque that had just been vandalized, a U.S. flag painted on the lawn, pipe bombs lobbed through its windows. Most of the ill-assembled pipes had fizzled without exploding, but a single bomb had erupted in the mosque’s front hall. Some local bigot, people assumed. Since no one plausible had claimed responsibility for the clinic bombings, anti-Muslim sentiment was running high. I showed up ahead of time to my next shift at Michelangelo’s. Finding Paul, I asked if he had questions about how I’d ended up in jail. He was inspecting shellfish deliveries. Without looking up, he said, So, the kid thinks I want to quiz him. Couple hours in jail, ta-da, you think it makes you fascinating. What am I, the fucking paparazzi? He slit open a box of live crayfish, and I said I thought he should be kept apprised of what I’d done. Since I work here, I said. I’ve told you bozos, he said, I’m up to date with all that needs knowing about you. You’ve got a secret that affects this place, if it’s my business, then I’ll be up to date. But this, first off, it’s no secret, and also I don’t give a shit. Hand-sized, a spot of red throbbed past, the new hostess’s zodiac tattoo. It veiled the side of her neck. The last girl had quit in less than a month. I pushed ahead, telling Paul that maybe he should give a shit, since it was possible I’d dated a girl who, well, if any of this became public knowledge, guests might—but before I could finish, he slapped the bar top, his rings clinking zinc. The crayfish he’d pulled out lifted its petaled tail; he took it up by its midsection, dropped it in the box. Kendall, I tell you I’ve got no questions, it means I’ve got no questions, he said. You think you know a thing I don’t? Let me tell you what happened the month those towers fell, when a pack of drunk kids chased the wife with a pistol, yelling, Muslim, go home. The wife’s from fucking Sevilla, she’s no Muslim, just because she likes to tan in the salons these kids think they’ll decide who belongs. I don’t give a fuck what you do outside this place.

• From Girls & Sex (2016)

  There has been a lot of anxiety over the past couple of decades about teens and oral sex. Much of it can be traced back to the late 1990s, to a New York Times report that among middle-class teens, oral sex—and by “oral sex,” it meant fellatio—not only was becoming ubiquitous, but that they were engaging in it far earlier and more casually than teens’ busy (read: neglectful) working parents realized. One health educator was quoted as saying, “‘Do you spit or do you swallow?’ is a typical seventh-grade question.” Two years later, the Washington Post covered a parent meeting called by middle school counselors in Arlington, Virginia, a town of “elegant brick homes, leafy sycamores and stone walls”—again, code for white and middle class—to discuss the fellatio craze among thirteen-year-old girls. The reporter linked that incident to a wider regional trend, based largely on “student grapevine”–generated claims of girls who had dropped to their knees during study hall or at the back of a school bus. Girls’ bodies have always been vectors for a society’s larger trepidations about women’s roles. It was likely no coincidence, then, that those early blow job scandals surfaced just as oral sex was making front-page news for another reason: the country was gripped by an obsession with a certain blue Gap frock and a cigar that was by no means just a cigar. President Bill Clinton’s alleged dalliance with Monica Lewinsky, a White House intern less than half his age, dominated the headlines, sending mortified parents leaping from the couch to twist the radio dial or grab the TV remote when the latest reports aired. Most famously, in January 1998, Clinton testified under oath that “I did not have sex with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.” A few months later, when DNA from his semen was discovered on the fabled dress that she had squirreled away as a memento of their tryst—and, might I say, ick—he insisted that he had not perjured himself because their relationship involved only oral sex. Suddenly, people across the nation were hotly debating whether mouth-to-genital contact was, indeed, “sex.” If it wasn’t, what exactly was it? And how were Americans supposed to explain the president’s hairsplitting to their children?

• From Emotional Beats: How to Easily Convert your Writing into Palpable Feelings (2018)

  Here is a selection from writinghelpers ( http://writinghelpers.tumblr.com ): Breathy : a breathy voice may signify excitement or desire.Brittle : a brittle voice signifies a character who is about to cry.Booming : very loud and attention-getting.Croaky : if someone’s voice sounds croaky, they speak in a low, rough voice that sounds as if they have a sore throat.Flat : spoken in a voice that does not go up and down.Grating : a grating voice, laugh, or sound is unpleasant and annoying.Gravelly : a gravelly voice sounds low and rough.Gruff : this voice has a rough, low sound.Guttural : a guttural sound is deep and made at the back of your throat.High-pitched : true to its name, a high-pitched voice or sound is very high.Hoarse : someone who is hoarse, or has a hoarse voice, speaks in a low, rough voice, usually because their throat is sore.Honeyed : honeyed words or a honeyed voice sound very nice, but you cannot trust the person who is speaking.Husky : a husky voice is deep and sounds hoarse (as if you have a sore throat), often in an attractive way.Low : a low voice is quiet and difficult to hear; also used for describing a deep voice that has a long wavelength.Matter-of-fact : usually used if the person speaking knows what they are talking about (or absolutely think they know what they are talking about).Monotonous : this kind of voice is boring and unpleasant due to the fact that it does not change in loudness or become higher/lower.Nasal : someone with a nasal voice sounds as if they are speaking through their nose.Penetrating : a penetrating voice is so high or loud that it makes you slightly uncomfortable.Raucous : a raucous voice or noise is loud and sounds rough.Ringing : a ringing voice is very loud and clear.Rough : a rough voice is not soft and is unpleasant to listen to.Shrill : a shrill voice is very loud, high, and unpleasant.Silvery : this voice is clear, light, and pleasant.Singsong : if you speak in a singsong voice, your voice rises and falls in a musical way.Smoky : a smoky voice is sexually attractive in a slightly mysterious way.Soft : someone who is soft-spoken has a quiet, gentle voice.Stentorian : a stentorian voice sounds very loud and severe.Strangled : a strangled sound is one that someone stops before they finish making it.Taut : used about something such as a voice that shows someone is nervous or angry.Thick : your voice is thick with an emotion.Throaty : a throaty sound is low and seems to come from deep in your throat.Tight : shows that you are nervous or annoyed.Tremulous : if your voice is tremulous, it is not steady; for example, because you are afraid or excited.In an undertone : using a quiet voice so that someone cannot hear you.Wheezy : a wheezy noise sounds as if it is made by someone who has difficulty breathing.Whispery : using a quiet voice so that someone cannot hear you.Wobbly : if your voice is wobbly, it goes up and down, usually because you are frightened, not confident, or about to cry.Quavering : if your voice quavers, it is not steady because you are feeling nervous or afraid.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  17 ‘Is the wrongdoing (idolatry) of Peor not enough for us, from which we have not cleansed ourselves to this day, even though the affliction [in which twenty-four thousand died] came on the congregation of the LORD , [Num 25:1–9 ] 18 that you would turn away this day from following the LORD ? If you rebel against the LORD today, He will be angry with the entire congregation of Israel tomorrow. 19 ‘If, however, the land of your possession is unclean, then cross into the land of the possession of the LORD , where the LORD ’s tabernacle is situated, and settle down among us. But do not rebel against the LORD , or rebel against us by building an altar for yourselves, besides the altar of the LORD our God [at Shiloh]. 20 ‘Did not Achan the son of Zerah act unfaithfully in the things under the ban, and [as a result God’s] wrath came on the entire congregation of Israel? And that man did not perish alone in his wrongdoing.’ ” [Josh 7:1–26 ] 21 Then the sons of Reuben and the sons of Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh answered and said to the heads of the families of Israel, 22 “The Mighty One, God, the LORD , the Mighty One, God, the LORD ! He knows, and may Israel itself know. If it was in rebellion, or if in an unfaithful act against the LORD , do not save us this day! 23 “If we have built an altar for ourselves to turn away from following the LORD , or if [we did so] to offer a burnt offering or grain offering on it, or if to offer sacrifices of peace offerings on it, may the LORD Himself require it [of us and hold us responsible]. 24 “But in truth we have done this out of concern, for a reason, saying, ‘In time to come your sons (descendants) may say to our sons, “What b claim do you have to the LORD , the God of Israel?

• From The Decameron (1353)

  After awhile, fearing to add shame to her loss, she bethought herself that it behoved her without delay find a means of carrying the dead man forth of the house and knowing not how to contrive this, she softly called her maid and discovering to her her misadventure sought counsel of her. The maid marvelled exceedingly and herself pulled and pinched Ruggieri, but, finding him without sense or motion, agreed with her mistress that he was certainly dead and counselled her put him forth of the house. Quoth the lady, 'And where can we put him, so it may not be suspected, whenas he shall be seen to-morrow morning, that he hath been brought out hence?' 'Madam,' answered the maid, 'I saw, this evening at nightfall, over against the shop of our neighbour yonder the carpenter, a chest not overbig, the which, an the owner have not taken it in again, will come very apt for our affair; for that we can lay him therein, after giving him two or three slashes with a knife, and leave him be. I know no reason why whoso findeth him should suppose him to have been put there from this house rather than otherwhence; nay, it will liefer be believed, seeing he was a young man of lewd life, that he hath been slain by some enemy of his, whilst going about to do some mischief or other, and after clapped in the chest.' The maid's counsel pleased the lady, save that she would not hear of giving him any wound, saying that for naught in the world would her heart suffer her to do that. Accordingly she sent her to see if the chest were yet whereas she had noted it and she presently returned and said, 'Ay.' Then, being young and lusty, with the aid of her mistress, she took Ruggieri on her shoulders and carrying him out,--whilst the lady forewent her, to look if any came,--clapped him into the chest and shutting down the lid, left him there. Now it chanced that, a day or two before, two young men, who lent at usance, had taken up their abode in a house a little farther and lacking household gear, but having a mind to gain much and spend little, had that day espied the chest in question and had plotted together, if it should abide there the night, to carry it off to their own house. Accordingly, midnight come, they sallied forth and finding the chest still there, without looking farther, they hastily carried it off, for all it seemed to them somewhat heavy, to their own house, where they set it down beside a chamber in which their wives slept and there leaving it, without concerning themselves for the nonce to settle it overnicely, betook them to bed.

• From The Ice Storm (1994)

  Invitations usually didn’t advertise a key party, but somehow the word usually got out. You had to be in the food chain to know, but then that was the premise of an invitation, right? The Hoods hadn’t attended any of the key parties, but not because they had discussed it. No, they hadn’t been to a key party because they hadn’t been invited. Anyway, Benjamin thought, Elena was no swinger. Hood worried again about his ascot. In the half-defogged rearview mirror he unknotted the thing from his neck and breathed a sigh of relief. —This just isn’t the best moment for this, Elena said. He did his best to avoid her distress. Trying to repair the situation would only be selfish. With his handkerchief he began to clean the window on the driver’s side. —It’ll just streak, she said. —I know. I know that, Hood said. Well, if we’d understood we could have fabricated an excuse. Plenty of movies to see. There’s a little thing of tissues in there. She opened the glove compartment. —Well? she said. He took in the cool glow of her pale, pale eyes. She had left her glasses at home. Sometime in the midst of that uncomfortable discussion back at the house she had left off her glasses. (For a time she had worn contact lenses, which clogged with pollution whenever she wore them, or which would pop out, pop like a fierce tear from her eye and drift to the floor, so that the two of them would fall into a prayerful attitude and comb the rugs and floors at parties.) —I think we’re here and we don’t have to stay—we ought to simply put in an appearance and then we can head home. He knew this wasn’t her feeling. —Darn it, Ben— —I’m not staying at this party so that I can go home with someone else’s wife, darling. Let’s just talk about it. That’s not why we’re here. Right? We’re simply being neighbors here, and I think we should do just that, and then we can go. —You’re going to— —I’m not. —You have some marker, that’s what I think, if you want to know the truth. You have some marker and you’re going to put it on the house keys so that Janey can find them and then when I get back to the house I’ll find the two of you in there and Wendy’ll be able to hear you and Paul will be back and he’ll hear you and I’ll catch you, that’s what I think. She’ll be moaning and swearing, banging against the wall and I’ll catch you— Elena smiled faintly when she was distressed—he attributed this to the way things went during her childhood—and she was smiling now. In a way, it was a diabolical smile, the smile of a conspirator or politician, just as she was rubbing her eyes. Her nose was red. —Elena, he said.

• From Girls & Sex (2016)

  Media has been called a “super peer,” dictating all manner of behavioral “scripts” to young people, including those for sexual encounters: expectations, desires, norms. In one era, they learn that you don’t kiss until the third date; in another, they learn that sex precedes an exclusive relationship. Bryant Paul, a professor of telecommunications at Indiana University Bloomington who studies “scripting theory,” explained, “I’ll ask students, ‘Think about how you learned what to do at your first college party. You’d never been to one, but you knew you were supposed to gather around the keg. You knew that couples would go off to someone’s room.’ And they’ll say, ‘Yeah, from American Pie and all those movies.’ So where are they learning their sexual socialization, especially in terms of more explicit behaviors? You’d be foolish not to think they’re getting ideas from porn. Young people are not tabulae rasae. They have a sense of right and wrong. But if they’re repeatedly exposed to certain themes, they are more likely to pick them up, to internalize them and have them become part of their sexual scripts. So when you see consistent depictions of women with multiple partners and women being used as sex objects for males, and there’s no counterweight argument going on there . . .” He trailed off, leaving the obvious conclusion unspoken. Over 40 percent of children ages ten to seventeen have been exposed to porn online, many accidentally. By college, according to a survey of more than eight hundred students titled “Generation XXX,” 90 percent of men and a third of women had viewed porn during the preceding year. On one hand, the girls I met knew that porn was about as realistic as pro wrestling, but that didn’t stop them from consulting it as a guide. Honestly? It pains me to hear that the scatological fetish video Two Girls, One Cup was, for some, their first exposure to sex. Even if what they watch is utterly vanilla, they’re still learning that women’s sexuality exists for the benefit of men. So it worried me to hear an eleventh-grader confide, “I watch porn because I’m a virgin and I want to figure out how sex works”; or when another high-schooler explained that she “watched it to learn how to give head”; or when a freshman in college told me, “There are some advantages: before watching porn, I didn’t know girls could squirt.”

• From Girls & Sex (2016)

  Performing oral sex could make girls feel like the more active partner in an encounter. By contrast, they described cunnilingus and intercourse as passive, like something that was being done to them, leaving them vulnerable. Those empowered feelings about fellatio, though, coexisted with their opposites: a lack of control, pressure to comply, the unspoken threat of danger. Sam commented that while her male peers had been warned not to coerce girls into intercourse, pushing for oral was fair game. Because of that, while she had “plenty of guy friends,” she preferred not to be alone with them (which would, it seems, be an obstacle to true friendship). “In my social world, if you’re hanging out alone with a guy, the usual expectation is that you’re going to hook up with him,” she explained. “And if you decide not to, he might try to pressure you. So I’ll hang out with a guy at school, but I would never go to his house or to a movie or do anything that could be construed as more than ‘just friends’ unless I wanted that to happen. It’s not that they’d force themselves on you; it’s that there would be pressure. There would be disappointment. And there might be tension in our relationship if it didn’t happen.” I want to be clear here. Sam was not a pushover, not a meek or mousy girl. She was an honor student, an editor on her school paper, a varsity tennis player. She identified as a feminist and casually bandied about terms such as slut shaming, gender binary, and rape culture. She was applying to top-tier colleges. She was an astute observer of her world. She was also, most definitely, immersed in it. Nearly all the girls I interviewed were bright, assertive, ambitious. If I had been interviewing them about their professional dreams or their attitudes toward leadership or their willingness to compete with boys in the classroom, I might have walked away inspired. A sophomore at an Ivy League college, a lacrosse player whose mother was a partner in a large law firm, bragged to me about the “strong women” in her family. “My grandmother is a firecracker at eighty-eight, and my mom is crazy, and my sister and I are going to be as crazy as they are,” she said. “In my family, you have to have a personality and be loud. That’s how we interact. It’s like a form of feminine power and knowing yourself.”

• From Emotional Beats: How to Easily Convert your Writing into Palpable Feelings (2018)

  This collection of some of the best beats I’ve come across can be a genre fiction writer’s best friend. When you struggle to think of a novel way to convey an emotion without naming it, simply check out these handy lists for inspiration and start writing! Name that emotion“Show, don’t tell,” everyone says. Why? Because of the way our brains are wired. If you don’t name the emotion you are trying to describe, the emotional resonance is actually much stronger. As soon as you name an emotion, however, your readers slip into thinking mode. And when they think about an emotion, they distance themselves from the actual experience of feeling it. So, the next question is, how ? How can we show anger, fear, indifference, and the whole range of emotions that characterize the human experience? Until a few years ago, the answer might have been simple: add an adverb. For example: He fearfully stepped onto the ladder. This is simple and unassuming. But, for today’s author, unacceptable. “Lazy writing,” your writing coach would say, suggesting instead that you use a beat. For example, you could describe your character’s actions along the lines of: He placed one uncertain foot on the ladder and raised his body. Will it hold, he wondered. He closed his eyes for a second, expecting the worn step to give way. When it didn’t, he placed his second foot on the next step. His temples felt damp. He resisted the urge to wipe them, his fingers clutching instead the railing even harder. The ladder held. So far. Much better, right? It is richer; immediate; deeper. It draws the reader in; makes them want to read more. Let’s see another example: Sally felt anxious. This is a perfect example of a sentence just begging for a beat. So, how about using one to show us instead of telling us? Sally clutched the hem of her dress, then forced herself to release it and straightened the fabric with long, nervous strokes. Isn’t that more engaging? Still, there is a little more fun to be had. Tag! You’re it.Beats are great when used as an alternative to dialogue tags. Instead of using the tired ol’ “ he said-she said ,” you can use a beat to indicate whose turn it is to speak. Adding dialogue to the previous example, is there any doubt it is Sally doing the talking? Sally clutched the hem of her dress. “I don’t know.” She forced herself to release the dress and straightened the fabric with long, nervous strokes. “I really don’t know.” You can use beats this way not only to avoid excessive dialogue tags, but also to color dialogue with any sort of emotion—in the case of poor Sally, nervousness. Talking Heads and How to Avoid themTalking heads are like comics with nothing but heads and dialogue balloons, placed on a white background. There is no action nor settings; just dialogue. Not me, you say.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  She forgot to inquire about Angela’s dog-bite, though the bandaged hand was placed on a cushion; and she also forgot to adjust her new necktie, which in her emotion had slipped slightly crooked. A thousand times in the last few days had she carefully rehearsed this scene of their meeting, making up long and elab- orate speeches; assuming, in her mind, many dignified poses; and yet there she sat on the edge of a chair as though it were the Prickly Cradle. And now Angela was speaking in her soft, Southern drawl: ‘ So you’ve found your way here at last,’ she was saying. And then, after a pause: ‘I’m so glad, Miss Gordon, do you know that your coming has given me real pleasure? ’ Stephen said: ‘ Yes — oh, yes—’ Then fell silent again, ap- parently intent on the carpet. ‘Have I dropped my cigarette ash or something? ’ inquired her hostess. whose mouth twitched a little. 154 THE WELL OF LONELINESS ‘I don’t think so, murmured Stephen, pretending to look, then glancing up sideways at the impudent bullfinch. The bullfinch was now being sentimental; he piped very low and with great expression. ‘O, Tannebaum, O, Tannebaum, wie grün sind Deine Blatter ’ he piped, hopping rather heavily from perch to perch, with one beady black orb fixed on Stephen. Then Angela said: ‘It’s a curious thing, but I feel as though I’ve known you for ages. I don’t want to behave as though we were strangers — do you think that’s very American of me? Ought I to be formal and stand-offish and British? I will if you say so, but I don’t feel British.’ And her voice, although quite steady and grave, was somehow distinctly suggestive of laughter. Stephen lifted troubled eyes to her face: ‘I want. very much to be your friend if you'll have me,’ she said; and then she flushed deeply. Angela held out her undamaged hand which Stephen took, but in great trepidation. Barely had it lain in her own for a mo- ment, when she clumsily gave it back to its owner. Then Angela looked at her hand. Stephen thought: ‘Have I done something rude or awk- ward?’ And her heart thumped thickly against her side. She wanted to retrieve the lost hand and stroke it, but unfortunately it was now stroking Tony. She sighed, and Angela, hearing that sigh, glanced up, as though in inquiry. The butler arrived bringing in the tea. “Sugar? ’ asked Angela. ‘ No, thanks,’ said Stephen; then she suddenly changed her mind, ‘ three lumps, please,’ she had always detested tea without sugar. The tea was too hot; it burnt her mouth badly. She grew scarlet and her eyes began to water. To cover her confusion she swallowed more tea, while Angela looked tactfully out of the window. But when she considered it safe to turn round, her ex- pression, although still faintly amused, had something about it that was tender.

• From Hot Rods: Gay Erotic Stories (2011)

  Title : Hot Rods: Gay Erotic Stories Author: Laurence, Sean [image file=image_8.jpg] Table of Contents Title Page FRISK CHROME-OBSESSED URBAN COWBOYS THE BIG HOMO DADDY’S GUIDE TO LOVEMAKING BETWEEN SHOTS FIRED SANDHOGS ABOUT THE AUTHORS Copyright Page [image file=image_39.jpg] FRISK Hank Edwards I sat nervously in the conference room surrounded by my partners in law and, unfortunately, crime. A slick bead of sweat ran from my armpit to the waistband of my boxers, leaving behind a track of moisture that brought on a shiver. “What’s the matter, Zack?” asked the senior partner, George, narrowing his gray eyes in my direction. “Caught a chill?” I shrugged as nonchalantly as possible considering the situation. “Goose walked over my grave, I guess.” The seven men surrounding the fine oak conference table chuckled quietly. All of us had conspired to hide certain business transactions from the government. Now I found myself involved in a sting operation to save my hairy hide and rat out my partners. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. A few months ago the state’s attorney had shown up on my doorstep along about midnight. Midnight visitors are never good, and this one had lived up to that promise. I opened the door to a full-court press and after several hours of talks I agreed to turn state’s evidence against the other partners in my law firm. The state’s attorney had approached me because I was the newest member of the partners’ roster and could ask the many questions that needed to be answered on tape without raising much suspicion. For this effort, I would receive a reduced sentence in a white-collar prison and lose my license to practice law. Hey, what a deal, right? I now wore a small transmitter and microphone to every encounter I had with any of the partners. I had been doing it for several weeks, but at each meeting I felt as nervous as the first time. Would I screw up somehow and blow the whole operation? Then where would I be? Each time I wore the transmitter I had to go through a certain procedure. It was placed on different areas of my body depending on the type of meeting: golf, conference room, travel by car or rail, that kind of thing. With two other witnesses in the office, one of the agents would meet me just before I was to leave for the appointment and tape the transmitter to my waist, back or leg. This required me to partially disrobe, a fact that forced me to start wearing boxers to better hide the fact that I was usually sporting a partial hard-on. I don’t know where they found the field agents for this assignment, but I want a two-week vacation to that place.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "We too have had our mild local excitement. It appears the truant wife of Mellors, the keeper, turned up at the cottage, and found herself unwelcome. He packed her off and locked the door. Report has it, however, that when he returned from the wood he found the no longer fair lady firmly established in his bed, in _puris naturalibu_; or one should say, in _impuris naturalibus_. She had broken a window and got in that way. Unable to evict the somewhat manhandled Venus from his couch, he beat a retreat and retired, it is said, to his mother's house in Tevershall. Meanwhile the Venus of Stacks Gate is established in the cottage, which she claims is her home, and Apollo, apparently, is domiciled in Tevershall. "I repeat this from hearsay, as Mellors has not come to me personally. I had the particular bit of local garbage from our garbage bird, our ibis, our scavenging turkey-buzzard, Mrs. Bolton. I would not have repeated it had she not exclaimed: her Ladyship will go no more to the wood if _that_ woman's going to be about! "I like your picture of Sir Malcolm striding into the sea with white hair blowing and pink flesh glowing. I envy you that sun. Here it rains. But I don't envy Sir Malcolm his inveterate mortal carnality. However, it suits his age. Apparently one grows more carnal and more mortal as one grows older. Only youth has a taste of immortality." This news affected Connie in her state of semi-stupefied well-being with vexation amounting to exasperation. Now she had got to be bothered by that beast of a woman! Now she must start and fret! She had no letter from Mellors. They had agreed not to write at all, but now she wanted to hear from him personally. After all, he was the father of the child that was coming. Let him write! But how hateful! Now everything was messed up. How foul those low people were! How nice it was here, in the sunshine and the indolence, compared to that dismal mess of that English midlands! After all, a clear sky was almost the most important thing in life. She did not mention the fact of her pregnancy, even to Hilda. She wrote to Mrs. Bolton for exact information. Duncan Forbes, an artist, friend of theirs, had arrived at the Villa Esmeralda, coming north from Rome. Now he made a third in the gondola, and he bathed with them across the lagoon, and was their escort: a quiet, almost taciturn young man, very advanced in his art. She had a letter from Mrs. Bolton: "You will be pleased, I am sure, my Lady, when you see Sir Clifford. He's looking quite blooming and working very hard, and very hopeful. Of course he is looking forward to seeing you among us again. It is a dull house without my Lady, and we shall all welcome her presence among us once more.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  ‘ What am I to think?’ Then because of her longing, ‘ An- gela, for God’s sake don’t treat me like this—I can’t bear it. When you loved me it was easier to bear — I endured it for your sake, but now —listen, listen. . . .” Stark naked confessions THE WELL OF LONELINESS 209 dragged from lips that grew white the while they confessed: TAnedlas-hsteny |, 26 And now the terrible nerves of the invert, those nerves that are always lying in wait, gripped Stephen. They ran like live _ wires through her body, causing a constant and ruthless torment, so that the sudden closing of a door or the barking of Tony would fall like a blow on her shrinking flesh. At night in her bed she must cover her ears from the ticking of the clock, which would sound like thunder in the darkness. Angela had taken to going up to London on some pretext or another — she must see her dentist; she must fit a new dress. ‘ Well then, let me come with you.’ “Good heavens, why? I’m only going to the dentist! ’ * All right, I'll come too.’ “You'll do nothing of the kind.’ Then Stephen would know why Angela was going. All that day she would be haunted by insufferable pictures. Whatever she did, wherever she went, she would see them to- gether, Angela and Roger. . . . She would think: ‘I’m going mad! I can see them as clearly as though they were here before me in the room.’ And then she would cover her eyes with her hands, but this would only strengthen the pictures. Like some earth-bound spirit she would haunt The Grange on the pretext of taking Tony for a walk. And there, as likely as not, would be Ralph wandering about in his bare rose garden. He would glance up and see her perhaps, and then — most pro- found shame of all — they would both look guilty, for each would know the loneliness of the other, and that loneliness would draw them together for the moment; they would be almost friends in their hearts. ‘ Angela’s gone up to London, Stephen.’ ‘ Yes, I know. She’s gone up to fit her new dress.’ Their eyes would drop. Then Ralph might say sharply: ‘If you're after the dog, he’s in the kitchen,’ and turning his back, he might make a pretence of examining his standard rose-trees. Calling Tony, Stephen would walk into Upton, then along 210 THE WELL OF LONELINESS the mist-swept bank of the river. She would stand very still staring down at the water, but the impulse would pass, and whistling the dog, she would turn and go hurrying back to Upton.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  Ir STEPHEN had been fearful for Mary’s safety before, she wus now ten times more so. The front was in a condition of flux and the Postes de Secours were continually shifting. An Allied am- bulance driver had been fired on by the Germans, after having arrived at the spot where his Poste had been only the previous evening. There was very close fighting on every sector; it seemed truly amazing that no grave casualties had so far occurred in the Unit. For now the Allies had begun to creep forward, yard by yard, mile by mile, very slowly but surely; refreshed by a splendid transfusion of blood from the youthful veins of a great child- nation. Of all the anxieties on Mary’s account that now beset Stephen, Thurloe was the gravest; for Thurloe was one of those irritating drivers who stake all on their own inadequate judgment. She was brave to a fault, but inclined to show off when it came to a matter of actual danger. For long hours Stephen would not know what 332 THE WELL OF LONELINESS had happened, and must often leave the base before Mary had rè- turned, still in doubt regarding her safety. Grimly, yet with unfailing courage and devotion, Stephen now went about her duties. Every day the risks that they all took grew graver, for the enemy, nearing the verge of defeat, was less than ever a respecter of persons. Stephen’s only moments of com- parative peace would be when she herself drove Mary. And as though the girl missed some vitalizing force, some strength that had hitherto been hers to draw on, she flagged, and Stephen would watch her flagging during their brief spells together off duty, and would know that nothing but her Celtic pluck kept Mary Llewellyn from a break-down. And now, because they were so often parted, even chance meetings became of importance. They might meet while preparing their cars in the morning, and if this should happen they would draw close together for a mo- ment, as though finding comfort in nearness. Letters from home would arrive for Stephen, and these she would want to read to Mary. In addition to writing, Puddle sent food, even luxuries sometimes, of a pre-war nature. To obtain them she must have used bribery and corruption, for food of all kinds had grown scarce in England. Puddle, it seemed, had a mammoth wer map into which she stuck pins with gay little pennants. Every time the lines moved by so much as a yard, out would come Puddle’s pins to go in at fresh places; for since Stephen had left her to go to the front, the war had become very personal to Puddle.