Contentment

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.

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• From The City of God

  [459] Gal. iv. 26. [460] 1 Thess. v. 5. [461] Comp. de Gen. ad Lit. i. and iv. Chapter 8. --What We are to Understand of God's Resting on the Seventh Day, After the Six Days' Work. When it is said that God rested on the seventh day from all His works, and hallowed it, we are not to conceive of this in a childish fashion, as if work were a toil to God, who "spake and it was done,"--spake by the spiritual and eternal, not audible and transitory word. But God's rest signifies the rest of those who rest in God, as the joy of a house means the joy of those in the house who rejoice, though not the house, but something else, causes the joy. How much more intelligible is such phraseology, then, if the house itself, by its own beauty, makes the inhabitants joyful! For in this case we not only call it joyful by that figure of speech in which the thing containing is used for the thing contained (as when we say, "The theatres applaud," "The meadows low," meaning that the men in the one applaud, and the oxen in the other low), but also by that figure in which the cause is spoken of as if it were the effect, as when a letter is said to be joyful, because it makes its readers so. Most appropriately, therefore, the sacred narrative states that God rested, meaning thereby that those rest who are in Him, and whom He makes to rest. And this the prophetic narrative promises also to the men to whom it speaks, and for whom it was written, that they themselves, after those good works which God does in and by them, if they have managed by faith to get near to God in this life, shall enjoy in Him eternal rest. This was pre-figured to the ancient people of God by the rest enjoined in their sabbath law, of which, in its own place, I shall speak more at large.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  The second set of drinks arrived. Cardell took a long, cross-eyed slurp from the straw and then sighed hugely. “Cold,” he said. “Very. They drank it through straws from a straw-hat factory, and they cooled it with crushed ice from a lake in Massachusetts,” said Jackie. “In England, they used American ice? That’s kind of loony.” “No, it’s rational, because the Wenham Lake ice was the best ice, and the ice salesmen went over to London and Oxford and Cambridge, and they got the word out. They said, ‘Make this sherry cobbler from our recipe, but you have to use real imported American ice, not the dirty ice from the dirty fish shops and the dirty British rivers, because that ice will make you ill.’ ” “And then of course you’ll upchuck, and the spins are no help with that.” “Right, ‘Buy our clean innocent ice from the land of America, where there are clean green tree frogs, and clean shiny fish, and a few noble savages going skippity doodah in their immaculate moccasins.’ It was a big business, the transatlantic ice trade. Charles Dickens bought five pounds’ worth of Wenham Lake ice in 1850.” Jackie pointed at Cardell. “We know that for a fact.” “Interesting,” said Cardell, rubbing his face vigorously. “You know, the English talk a good game, but they’re such hypocrites. All that business about how vulgar it is to have ice in drinks. Look at this freaking peach cobbler!” He held his palms toward his drink. “Just have a look at it!” “Now, Cardell,” said Jackie gently, patting Cardell’s hand, “the peach cobbler is a bit different. It’s baked in an oven.” “Of course, what am I thinking? Peaches and you bake it. Very different. Very hot. So hot you have to let it cool on your fork or you’ll burn your delicate mouth tissues. This is with ice and a straw and you suck it up greedily.” “Shall we summon another?” said Jackie. Again she made one of her expert signals to the bartender. Then she paused, listening. Across the room, the pianist had begun playing. “What song is it?” asked Cardell. “It’s very familiar.” “It’s Hoagy Carmichael, of course,” she said. “ ‘I get along without you very well.’ ” “God, these names. ‘Martin Chuzzlewit,’ ‘Hoagy Carmichael.’ You know, when I’m sitting in some lecture hall, listening to some talk by some really deadly historian—no offense to your profession—my head just gorges itself on obscene images. I can’t help it.” “Like what obscene images?” Jackie said. “Be specific.” “Oh, you know—” Cardell did some quick self-censorship. “Specifically two people tied together at the knees. Loosely tied together.” “Not tied. Oh, please.” “What?” “That’s such a tired trope—people tying each other up and peeing in mayonnaise jars and whatnot,” said Jackie. “You don’t want that, do you?”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Dave had a big plaid blanket in his canvas bag and a thermos of barley soup, and he unfurled the blanket over some matted grass and lay down and looked up at the clouds till he found one with soft breasts and a leg held alluringly half open, and he stuffed his hand down his pants and started working himself to the bone. A young woman walked up and said, “Excuse me, what are you doing?” She had a large blunt-faced dog on a leash. The dog barked once politely and then sat down. Dave whipped his hand out of his pants. “Just having my way with the clouds,” he said. “My apologies. ” “You shouldn’t be doing that here in this field. This is a working farm. It doesn’t belong to the House of Holes. Beyond that road over there is the property line. This is the real world.” Dave was horrified. “Very sorry, I had no idea I’d wandered off the range,” he said. “You’d think they’d have a little border-crossing caution sign.” He looked at the woman. She had generously messy hair and rough lips with no lipstick and a tiny scar on the bridge of her nose. “I’ll tell you, it’s one heck of a nice field you’ve got here. And you have some nice clouds, too. Nice soft luscious clouds just hanging in the sky.” “Thanks,” she said, with some friendliness, looking at his missing arm. “It was the clouds coming over this hill that convinced my parents to buy this place. It has different weather on this side. And the oats grow well down on this slope.” “Do you drive the tractor?” Dave asked. “I’m Dave, by the way. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’ve been, ah, having a meeting with the fondling fathers.” He folded up his plaid blanket and stuffed it into his canvas bag. “I’m Chilli,” she said. “Yes, sometimes I drive the tractor.” “Good skill to have,” he said. “Portable.” He stood and brushed off his pants, holding the canvas bag over his lap. “Well, I’m off. I’m practicing for a festival.” “Was that what you were doing when I walked up, ‘practicing’?” “I like to stay in shape.” They walked together down the rutted path toward the road. “Do you think there are certain fields on this planet that are sex fields? I feel that this is a sex field. It’s not just the clouds. It’s the shape of the land. You can’t tell if it’s a rectangle or a triangle or an oval. It undulates. ” “It does,” said Chilli. “Can I ask you something impertinent? Do you ever come out here and just want to take your pants off?

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Now shush and let me tell you about the sherry cobbler.” “They’re real good,” said Cardell. “Then let’s have two more immediately,” said Jackie. “They’re best drunk as fast as possible.” She ordered with a practiced move of her fingers—this woman knew her way around a bar. “Watch out for the spins, though. There’s a book of Oxford bar recipes that says that sherry cobblers have ‘more than once induced vertigo.’ Published in 1827.” “1827, that early, really?” She pointed at him. “You see, the straw allowed you to drink the mixture in a supercooled state.” “And that’s why Martin Chuzzlewit’s eyes rolled back in his head and he said, ‘Good Lord Nelson O’Reilly, what is this marvel?’ ” “Right, he gets totally smashed,” said Jackie. “I mean squashed. And that, you see, ushered in the so-called golden age of the sherry cobbler.” “Can I say,” murmured Cardell, wobbling his head seductively, “that I loved feeling the hot heat coming from under your dress?” “That’s what it’s there for,” said Jackie. “That’s what what’s there for?” “My li’l pussy.” “Oh, your li’l private space heater. Your hot wet—pooter. Your kitten. Mhm. You know—” The second set of drinks arrived. Cardell took a long, cross-eyed slurp from the straw and then sighed hugely. “Cold,” he said. “Very. They drank it through straws from a straw-hat factory, and they cooled it with crushed ice from a lake in Massachusetts,” said Jackie. “In England, they used American ice? That’s kind of loony.” “No, it’s rational, because the Wenham Lake ice was the best ice, and the ice salesmen went over to London and Oxford and Cambridge, and they got the word out. They said, ‘Make this sherry cobbler from our recipe, but you have to use real imported American ice, not the dirty ice from the dirty fish shops and the dirty British rivers, because that ice will make you ill.’ ” “And then of course you’ll upchuck, and the spins are no help with that.” “Right, ‘Buy our clean innocent ice from the land of America, where there are clean green tree frogs, and clean shiny fish, and a few noble savages going skippity doodah in their immaculate moccasins.’ It was a big business, the transatlantic ice trade. Charles Dickens bought five pounds’ worth of Wenham Lake ice in 1850.” Jackie pointed at Cardell. “We know that for a fact.” “Interesting,” said Cardell, rubbing his face vigorously. “You know, the English talk a good game, but they’re such hypocrites. All that business about how vulgar it is to have ice in drinks. Look at this freaking peach cobbler!” He held his palms toward his drink. “Just have a look at it!” “Now, Cardell,” said Jackie gently, patting Cardell’s hand, “the peach cobbler is a bit different. It’s baked in an oven.” “Of course, what am I thinking? Peaches and you bake it. Very different. Very hot.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  There was another resilient stiffness against her toes. Luna pushed back with both feet and felt both cocks standing hard against the composers’ taut bellies. They both seemed surprisingly fit for musicians. “How’s the music going for you?” Chuck murmured into her hair. “It feels good to have two stiff Russians pushing against the soles of my feet,” said Luna, smiling up at him. “Good,” said Chuck. Then convulsively he whispered some-thing in her hair that she didn’t catch. “What’s that?” “Nothing.” “No, Chuck, please tell me what you said.” “I said, ‘I wish I could fuck you in the mouth with my cock and come all over your pretty lips.’” “Woo, Chucky.” Luna got a melty feeling in her shoulders. She turned and squashed her face against his lap, inhaling his warm cocoa-bean smell through his dress pants. The smell went right to her head. “Hurry, because this pussy cradle is feeling way too good.” Out flopped the enormity of Chuck’s dick, poking stiffly between his white shirttails. It came to rest on her lips. “Jesus, that’s a nice dick, Chuck. My god. Rimsky, Alex, don’t stop!” She bucked against the pussy cup. “Nnnnnng! This is way too good!” She threw her head back and opened her mouth for Chuck’s cockness. “Fuck my mouth!” she said. Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakov were squeezing her calves and doing mad cocky things at her toes. “My penis is coming right now!” moaned Borodin. “My penis is coming, too!” said Rimsky-Korsakov. “Oh god, Chuck, I can’t hold back much longer,” said Luna. “Stuff my mouth with that fucking beast!” She ground her pussytwat against the crotchy holder, lifting her hips high to hold the moment in suspense. “Nnnnng-aaaaa!” She let her orgasm wave crash down just as she felt two hot blasts of white Russian semen drizzle against her toes. “Phew,” she said, breathing deeply, but she wanted more. She pulled her legs from the holes. “Now really fuck me, Chuck. No pussy cradle. I want to feel you inside.” Chuck turned the chair around. “You ready?” She nodded, feeling the Russian sperm cooling on her feet. Chuck’s thundertube of dickmeat started sliding in. It pushed her frilly doilies of labial flesh aside, and it kept on going till it couldn’t go any farther. She grabbed his hips and pulled him in, and then he pulled out, leaving her empty and waiting, and then he slammed into her train station again. His cock train was commuting in and out of her pussyhole, filling and emptying it by turns, and she loved it. She heard him say, “Here it comes, oh, here it comes,” almost in a whimper, and then he made a strange guttural cry that sounded like a tree cracking before it fell, and then a sound like a monster in a Japanese monster movie, and she felt a flowering of deep warmth inside her, and the sense of hot sperm that surrounded the prow of his still thrusting peckerdickcock.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  “Yes. And there’s a restaurant where people stand on the balcony to watch the pussyboarders come zooming downward to the lake one by one. Men, mostly Deprivos, line up afterward, if that’s what you want. It’s totally up to you. Some women feel so fresh from the lake that they want sex immediately.” “Got it,” said Henriette. She looked at Ned and Ned looked at her, and they shrugged—what the hell? Then a small cable-car gondola arrived, swaying and circling around on a metal track. The cables made gentle zinging sounds of tautness, and the door whished open. They got in, waving good-bye to Krock. The gondola rocked a little as the doors closed, and it began silently ascending toward a very high craggy tower. Ned and Henriette smiled embarrassedly at each other. “This is fun, I think,” said Ned. “It’s quiet,” said Henriette. “Very quiet,” said Ned. “Oh, look at the little herd of mountain zebra! So elegant.” Ned looked, but he couldn’t see them. They rose up up up, till the trees thinned out and stopped, and the mountains changed color and became turquoise and orange and red, and then they turned past a tall tower where there was a sudden dinging and an urgent pull of acceleration, and then they went higher still, through an impossibility of mist, and then finally out again into very bright deep-blue daylight. As they slowed, Henriette yawned to adjust her ears. The gondola’s door opened, and they disembarked on the flat smooth top of a crag. There were two chairs and a table with a linen tablecloth, and each chair had a shiny chrome double-scoped observation telescope in front of it. It was sunny and, fortunately, not too windy. The strange swooshing silence was even deeper here. “We’re really up high,” said Ned. The table was laid with some fruit, some grapes, some crackers, and a bottle of House red and two glasses. Henriette looked out, chewing a grape, letting her eyes adjust. They seemed to be about a mile up on an irregular, brittle, wind-eroded obelisk with a flat top and a low railing. There were about fifty other pillars, or spears, needling up from the clouds around them—each looking like the chemical mountains that grow in toy aquariums. The closest mountain was about five hundred yards away. Henriette spied a couple sitting on it. They, too, seemed to have a table with some delicacies set out. She waved. They waved back. “Have you got a quarter?” Henriette asked. “I think so,” said Ned, looking through his pockets.

• From The City of God

  [161] Comp. Bacon's Essay on the Vicissitudes of Things. [162] Matt. v. 45. Chapter 3. --Whether the Great Extent of the Empire, Which Has Been Acquired Only by Wars, is to Be Reckoned Among the Good Things Either of the Wise or the Happy. Now, therefore, let us see how it is that they dare to ascribe the very great extent and duration of the Roman empire to those gods whom they contend that they worship honorably, even by the obsequies of vile games and the ministry of vile men:although I should like first to inquire for a little what reason, what prudence, there is in wishing to glory in the greatness and extent of the empire, when you cannot point out the happiness of men who are always rolling, with dark fear and cruel lust, in warlike slaughters and in blood, which, whether shed in civil or foreign war, is still human blood; so that their joy may be compared to glass in its fragile splendor, of which one is horribly afraid lest it should be suddenly broken in pieces. That this may be more easily discerned, let us not come to nought by being carried away with empty boasting, or blunt the edge of our attention by loud-sounding names of things, when we hear of peoples, kingdoms, provinces. But let us suppose a case of two men; for each individual man, like one letter in a language, is as it were the element of a city or kingdom, however far-spreading in its occupation of the earth. Of these two men let us suppose that one is poor, or rather of middling circumstances; the other very rich. But the rich man is anxious with fears, pining with discontent, burning with covetousness, never se cure, always uneasy, panting from the perpetual strife of his enemies, adding to his patrimony indeed by these miseries to an immense degree, and by these additions also heaping up most bitter cares. But that other man of moderate wealth is contented with a small and compact estate, most dear to his own family, enjoying the sweetest peace with his kindred neighbors and friends, in piety religious, benignant in mind, healthy in body, in life frugal, in manners chaste, in conscience secure. I know not whether any one can be such a fool, that he dare hesitate which to prefer. As, therefore, in the case of these two men, so in two families, in two nations, in two kingdoms, this test of tranquility holds good; and if we apply it vigilantly and without prejudice, we shall quite easily see where the mere show of happiness dwells, and where real felicity. Wherefore if the true God is worshipped, and if He is served with genuine rites and true virtue, it is advantageous that good men should long reign both far and wide. Nor is this advantageous so much to themselves, as to those over whom they reign. For, so far as concerns themselves, their piety and probity, which are great gifts of God, suffice to give them true felicity, enabling them to live well the life that now is, and afterwards to receive that which is eternal. In this world, therefore, the dominion of good men is profitable, not so much for themselves as for human affairs. But the dominion of bad men is hurtful chiefly to themselves who rule, for they destroy their own souls by greater license in wickedness; while those who are put under them in service are not hurt except by their own iniquity. For to the just all the evils imposed on them by unjust rulers are not the punishment of crime, but the test of virtue. Therefore the good man, although he is a slave, is free; but the bad man, even if he reigns, is a slave, and that not of one man, but, what is far more grievous, of as many masters as he has vices; of which vices when the divine Scripture treats, it says, "For of whom any man is overcome, to the same he is also the bond-slave. " [163]

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  He was manning the sink and she was unloading the dishwasher, which wasn’t an easy job because the steam was hot. They developed a nice wordless rhythm together of unloading and drying and stacking. Then, wiping the edge of the sink with a clean dish towel, Chuck directed his restless blue eyes directly at her and asked her if she would like to go with him to the Masturboats. Just like that, all of a sudden: “Would you like to go with me to the Masturboats?” “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Luna replied with a laugh, not knowing exactly what the Masturboats were. But inside she was saying, Why not? Because she knew that his kind of easy glancing manner was not all that common. Men turned thirty-eight, thirty-nine, and it was like someone dimmed the lights. When they’re young, they’re hilarious and bubbly and boyish. And bad. So bad. When they’re old, they’re flat and stupid and dull. She watched them in airports with their wives: brain-dead, mostly. And yet this man, Chuck, was probably forty-five at least. He still had some humor left in him. He was funny about how hot the plates were. Not funny in a poking kind of way, but in a cheerful way. He had a shock of Jimmy Stewart hair that he flung around. In some ways a beautiful man, with a rough grace to him. Why had she refused his polite offer? Of course she should have said yes to the Masturboats, whatever they were. But she just didn’t want to. Chuck was unfazed. “Then would you like to go with me to an intimate concert of Russian piano music and sit in the Velvet Room, and I’ll toy with your hair?” She took a breath, thinking. “I like Russian music,” she said finally. “That sounds nice. Sure.” First, though, she needed to go to Tan Wizards. She didn’t want to have white shoulders when she wore her black dress with the spaghetti straps. She didn’t want to be some blinking creature coming out of her nocturnal burrow for a grand musical adventure. She wanted to be working from a position of strength, with cinnamon-colored shoulders that shrugged and moved alluringly. So she went to Tan Wizards and signed up. The girl there asked her which room she wanted, Room 1, Room 2, or Room 3. “Which do you recommend for very fast results?” Luna asked. “The bulbs are best in Room 3,” the girl said, and she winked. “And I recommend this bronzer. It’s on special, only twenty-seven dollars tonight.” “Leo’s Tanlord Bronzer?” “Yes, it’s fantastic, it makes you irresistible.”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  It’s totally up to you. Some women feel so fresh from the lake that they want sex immediately.” “Got it,” said Henriette. She looked at Ned and Ned looked at her, and they shrugged—what the hell? Then a small cable-car gondola arrived, swaying and circling around on a metal track. The cables made gentle zinging sounds of tautness, and the door whished open. They got in, waving good-bye to Krock. The gondola rocked a little as the doors closed, and it began silently ascending toward a very high craggy tower. Ned and Henriette smiled embarrassedly at each other. “This is fun, I think,” said Ned. “It’s quiet,” said Henriette. “Very quiet,” said Ned. “Oh, look at the little herd of mountain zebra! So elegant.” Ned looked, but he couldn’t see them. They rose up up up, till the trees thinned out and stopped, and the mountains changed color and became turquoise and orange and red, and then they turned past a tall tower where there was a sudden dinging and an urgent pull of acceleration, and then they went higher still, through an impossibility of mist, and then finally out again into very bright deep-blue daylight. As they slowed, Henriette yawned to adjust her ears. The gondola’s door opened, and they disembarked on the flat smooth top of a crag. There were two chairs and a table with a linen tablecloth, and each chair had a shiny chrome double-scoped observation telescope in front of it. It was sunny and, fortunately, not too windy. The strange swooshing silence was even deeper here. “We’re really up high,” said Ned. The table was laid with some fruit, some grapes, some crackers, and a bottle of House red and two glasses. Henriette looked out, chewing a grape, letting her eyes adjust. They seemed to be about a mile up on an irregular, brittle, wind-eroded obelisk with a flat top and a low railing. There were about fifty other pillars, or spears, needling up from the clouds around them—each looking like the chemical mountains that grow in toy aquariums. The closest mountain was about five hundred yards away. Henriette spied a couple sitting on it. They, too, seemed to have a table with some delicacies set out. She waved. They waved back. “Have you got a quarter?” Henriette asked. “I think so,” said Ned, looking through his pockets. They fed some coins into the slots of their sightseeing scopes. Henriette frowned, looking through the chrome-hooded viewer.

• From The City of God

  Chapter 8. --Of the Three Perturbations, Which the Stoics Admitted in the Soul of the Wise Man to the Exclusion of Grief or Sadness, Which the Manly Mind Ought Not to Experience. Those emotions which the Greeks call eupatheiai, and which Cicero calls constantioe, the Stoics would restrict to three; and, instead of three "perturbations" in the soul of the wise man, they substituted severally, in place of desire, will; in place of joy, contentment; and for fear, caution; and as to sickness or pain, which we, to avoid ambiguity, preferred to call sorrow, they denied that it could exist in the mind of a wise man. Will, they say, seeks the good, for this the wise man does. Contentment has its object in good that is possessed, and this the wise man continually possesses. Caution avoids evil, and this the wise man ought to avoid. But sorrow arises from evil that has already happened; and as they suppose that no evil can happen to the wise man, there can be no representative of sorrow in his mind. According to them, therefore, none but the wise man wills, is contented, uses caution; and that the fool can do no more than desire, rejoice, fear, be sad. The former three affections Cicero calls constantioe, the last four perturbationes. Many, however, calls these last passions; and, as I have said, the Greeks call the former eupatheiai, and the latter pathe. And when I made a careful examination of Scripture to find whether this terminology was sanctioned by it, I came upon this saying of the prophet:"There is no contentment to the wicked, saith the Lord;" [677] as if the wicked might more properly rejoice than be contented regarding evils, for contentment is the property of the good and godly. I found also that verse in the Gospel:"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them? " [678] which seems to imply that evil or shameful things may be the object of desire, but not of will. Indeed, some interpreters have added "good things," to make the expression more in conformity with customary usage, and have given this meaning, "Whatsoever good deeds that ye would that men should do unto you. "For they thought that this would prevent any one from wishing other men to provide him with unseemly, not to say shameful gratifications,--luxurious banquets, for example,--on the supposition that if he returned the like to them he would be fulfilling this precept. In the Greek Gospel, however, from which the Latin is translated, "good" does not occur, but only, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them," and, as I believe, because "good" is already included in the word "would;" for He does not say "desire. "

• From The City of God

  If, then, the blessed are rightly styled eudemons, the demons intermediate between gods and men are not eudemons. What, then, is the local position of those good demons, who, above men but beneath the gods, afford assistance to the former, minister to the latter? For if they are good and eternal, they are doubtless blessed. But eternal blessedness destroys their intermediate character, giving them a close resemblance to the gods, and widely separating them from men. And therefore the Platonists will in vain strive to show how the good demons, if they are both immortal and blessed, can justly be said to hold a middle place between the gods, who are immortal and blessed, and men, who are mortal and miserable. For if they have both immortality and blessedness in common with the gods, and neither of these in common with men, who are both miserable and mortal, are they not rather remote from men and united with the gods, than intermediate between them. They would be intermediate if they held one of their qualities in common with the one party, and the other with the other, as man is a kind of mean between angels and beasts,--the beast being an irrational and mortal animal, the angel a rational and immortal one, while man, inferior to the angel and superior to the beast, and having in common with the one mortality, and with the other reason, is a rational and mortal animal. So, when we seek for an intermediate between the blessed immortals and miserable mortals, we should find a being which is either mortal and blessed, or immortal and miserable. Chapter 14. --Whether Men, Though Mortal, Can Enjoy True Blessedness. It is a great question among men, whether man can be mortal and blessed. Some, taking the humbler view of his condition, have denied that he is capable of blessedness so long as he continues in this mortal life; others, again, have spurned this idea, and have been bold enough to maintain that, even though mortal, men may be blessed by attaining wisdom. But if this be the case, why are not these wise men constituted mediators between miserable mortals and the blessed immortals, since they have blessedness in common with the latter, and mortality in common with the former? Certainly, if they are blessed, they envy no one (for what more miserable than envy? ), but seek with all their might to help miserable mortals on to blessedness, so that after death they may become immortal, and be associated with the blessed and immortal angels.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Close the curtains. Now here, it’s different. Here I go to a groanroom with a friend. Sometimes I don’t have sex, I just listen. I love sex sounds.” “I’ve never been to a groanroom.” “Oh, you should go. The groanrooms are like the darkrooms except bigger. There are four couples in each one, and you can’t talk at all, not one word, and everyone wears a glowing wristband and a glowing ankleband. That’s all you can see. Mostly it’s just juicy sex sounds. I love when people make a surprised sound, ‘ooh!’ Basically I love to listen to people making out. That’s why I don’t understand about cumshots, frankly. Not that it’s bad for you to wear a Heftyshot. But seeing a man squirt out into the air is much less exciting to me than the idea of a man shooting inside me and filling me up with wonderful hot streams of doodle- goo.” Pendle gave her an eager smile. “Just the sounds of people just—just doing the happy humperdinkle, eh? Just doing it and loving it. Hooooooo.” “Exactly.” Trix sat forward politely. “So what about you, have you been having any fun here?” “No fun at all,” said Pendle. He plucked an aspen leaf. “Well, a little. I haven’t been here that long. Lila asked me to be a nipplerider, and I shrank down and rode her nipple for a bit, but I wasn’t good at it. The best time I had was when I went out with this woman for lunch on the terrace, overlooking the Garden of the Wholesome Delightful Fuckers. We were eating melon and blueberries and looking down, and there were all these wholesome fuckers having sex in among the palm trees and the bushes. It was exciting. They really take extra care with the grounds here—the grass is so green and the paths are so carefully tended. I like the landscaping.” “How many couples could you see?” “Oh, gosh, eight, nine couples. I think our final count was eleven. I said to her, ‘I have never seen this many couples doing it before.’ She said, ‘Me neither, I kind of like it.’ I said, ‘Do you want to go down and be a part of the action?’ And she said, ‘Well—let’s just sit in the glorious sunshine and watch them being wholesome.’ I said, ‘Okay,’ and we watched for about half an hour.

• From The City of God

  They lost all they had. Their faith? Their godliness? The possessions of the hidden man of the heart, which in the sight of God are of great price? [54]Did they lose these? For these are the wealth of Christians, to whom the wealthy apostle said, "Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which, while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. " [55]

• From The City of God

  Chapter 31. --Of the Seventh Day, in Which Completeness and Repose are Celebrated. But, on the seventh day (i. e. , the same day repeated seven times, which number is also a perfect one, though for another reason), the rest of God is set forth, and then, too, we first hear of its being hallowed. So that God did not wish to hallow this day by His works, but by His rest, which has no evening, for it is not a creature; so that, being known in one way in the Word of God, and in another in itself, it should make a twofold knowledge, daylight and dusk (day and evening). Much more might be said about the perfection of the number seven, but this book is already too long, and I fear lest I should seem to catch at an opportunity of airing my little smattering of science more childishly than profitably. I must speak, therefore, in moderation and with dignity, lest, in too keenly following "number," I be accused of forgetting "weight" and "measure. "Suffice it here to say, that three is the first whole number that is odd, four the first that is even, and of these two, seven is composed. On this account it is often put for all numbers together, as, "A just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again," [505] --that is, let him fall never so often, he will not perish (and this was meant to be understood not of sins, but of afflictions conducing to lowliness). Again, "Seven times a day will I praise Thee," [506] which elsewhere is expressed thus, "I will bless the Lord at all times. " [507]And many such instances are found in the divine authorities, in which the number seven is, as I said, commonly used to express the whole, or the completeness of anything. And so the Holy Spirit, of whom the Lord says, "He will teach you all truth," [508] is signified by this number. [509]In it is the rest of God, the rest His people find in Him. For rest is in the whole, i. e. , in perfect completeness, while in the part there is labor. And thus we labor as long as we know in part; "but when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. " [510]It is even with toil we search into the Scriptures themselves. But the holy angels, towards whose society and assembly we sigh while in this our toilsome pilgrimage, as they already abide in their eternal home, so do they enjoy perfect facility of knowledge and felicity of rest. It is without difficulty that they help us; for their spiritual movements, pure and free, cost them no effort. [505] Prov. xxiv. 16. [506] Ps. cxix. 164. [507] Ps. xxxiv. 1. [508] John xvi. 13.

• From The City of God

  They, then, who lost their worldly all in the sack of Rome, if they owned their possessions as they had been taught by the apostle, who himself was poor without, but rich within,--that is to say, if they used the world as not using it,--could say in the words of Job, heavily tried, but not overcome:"Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither:the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; as it pleased the Lord, so has it come to pass:blessed be the name of the Lord. " [56]Like a good servant, Job counted the will of his Lord his great possession, by obedience to which his soul was enriched; nor did it grieve him to lose, while yet living, those goods which he must shortly leave at his death. But as to those feebler spirits who, though they cannot be said to prefer earthly possessions to Christ, do yet cleave to them with a somewhat immoderate attachment, they have discovered by the pain of losing these things how much they were sinning in loving them. For their grief is of their own making; in the words of the apostle quoted above, "they have pierced themselves through with many sorrows. "For it was well that they who had so long despised these verbal admonitions should receive the teaching of experience. For when the apostle says, "They that will be rich fall into temptation," and so on, what he blames in riches is not the possession of them, but the desire of them. For elsewhere he says, "Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life. " [57]They who were making such a use of their property have been consoled for light losses by great gains, and have had more pleasure in those possessions which they have securely laid past, by freely giving them away, than grief in those which they entirely lost by an anxious and selfish hoarding of them. For nothing could perish on earth save what they would be ashamed to carry away from earth. Our Lord's injunction runs, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. " [58]And they who have listened to this injunction have proved in the time of tribulation how well they were advised in not despising this most trustworthy teacher, and most faithful and mighty guardian of their treasure. For if many were glad that their treasure was stored in places which the enemy chanced not to light upon, how much better founded was the joy of those who, by the counsel of their God, had fled with their treasure to a citadel which no enemy can possibly reach! Thus our Paulinus, bishop of Nola, [59] who voluntarily abandoned vast wealth and became quite poor, though abundantly rich in holiness, when the barbarians sacked Nola, and took him prisoner, used silently to pray, as he afterwards told me, "O Lord, let me not be troubled for gold and silver, for where all my treasure is Thou knowest. "For all his treasure was where he had been taught to hide and store it by Him who had also foretold that these calamities would happen in the world. Consequently those persons who obeyed their Lord when He warned them where and how to lay up treasure, did not lose even their earthly possessions in the invasion of the barbarians; while those who are now repenting that they did not obey Him have learnt the right use of earthly goods, if not by the wisdom which would have prevented their loss, at least by the experience which follows it.

• From The City of God

  Accordingly we say that there is no unchangeable good but the one, true, blessed God; that the things which He made are indeed good because from Him, yet mutable because made not out of Him, but out of nothing. Although, therefore, they are not the supreme good, for God is a greater good, yet those mutable things which can adhere to the immutable good, and so be blessed, are very good; for so completely is He their good, that without Him they cannot but be wretched. And the other created things in the universe are not better on this account, that they cannot be miserable. For no one would say that the other members of the body are superior to the eyes, because they cannot be blind. But as the sentient nature, even when it feels pain, is superior to the stony, which can feel none, so the rational nature, even when wretched, is more excellent than that which lacks reason or feeling, and can therefore experience no misery. And since this is so, then in this nature which has been created so excellent, that though it be mutable itself, it can yet secure its blessedness by adhering to the immutable good, the supreme God; and since it is not satisfied unless it be perfectly blessed, and cannot be thus blessed save in God,--in this nature, I say, not to adhere to God, is manifestly a fault. [525]Now every fault injures the nature, and is consequently contrary to the nature. The creature, therefore, which cleaves to God, differs from those who do not, not by nature, but by fault; and yet by this very fault the nature itself is proved to be very noble and admirable. For that nature is certainly praised, the fault of which is justly blamed. For we justly blame the fault because it mars the praiseworthy nature. As, then, when we say that blindness is a defect of the eyes, we prove that sight belongs to the nature of the eyes; and when we say that deafness is a defect of the ears, hearing is thereby proved to belong to their nature;--so, when we say that it is a fault of the angelic creature that it does not cleave to God, we hereby most plainly declare that it pertained to its nature to cleave to God. And who can worthily conceive or express how great a glory that is, to cleave to God, so as to live to Him, to draw wisdom from Him, to delight in Him, and to enjoy this so great good, without death, error, or grief? And thus, since every vice is an injury of the nature, that very vice of the wicked angels, their departure from God, is sufficient proof that God created their nature so good, that it is an injury to it not to be with God. [525] Vitium:perhaps "fault," most nearly embraces all the uses of this word.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Shandee thought she should bring the conversation around. “So how do you think I should best go about searching for my Dave?” she asked. “Let me muse on that further,” said Lila, taking off her bifocals. “I’ll need to hold the dear one again.” She sniffed Dave’s arm’s knuckles and pressed his hand lightly on her breast. “Hmmm. Let me just consider awhile. Mmm.” Zilka opened the door for Hax, Ruzty, and Dune. Lila quickly lowered Dave’s arm and looked over the crowd. “My goodness,” she said, “this is a pleasant afternoon. Dune, hello again, you rogue. Can any of you three fly a plane?” “I can sail a boat,” said Hax. “I drive a stunt motorcycle,” said Dune. “I can bend my thumbs backward, like this,” said Ruzty, demonstrating. “That settles it. Hax and Dune, you’ll fly the pornsucker ship to Baltimore with one of the pussypilots. Daggett will give you pointers. Daggett!” A dark-haired man appeared with a heavy bag on his back. “Daggett, we’ve got an emergency overload,” said Lila. “We’re going to have to suck all the bad porn out of Baltimore, Maryland.” “Not Baltimore!” said Daggett. “Yes. Buildings and Grounds says there’s a sentient mass forming in our main settling tank. We need dilution. Take these two fine men to the pornsucker squadron right away. I will brook no delay!” Daggett bowed and complied. “Have fun with that dude’s arm, girls!” called Dune as they left. “That boy is fresh,” said Lila cheerfully. “And now, Zilka, will you please help this lovely young man here, with the flexible thumbs”—she gestured at Ruzty—“to kick off his pants and lie on the massage table. It’s a nice solid table, bamboo.” Shandee, watching out of the corner of her eye, saw Zilka begin to busy herself with removing Ruzty’s wardrobe. She was curious to see Ruzty naked, but she forced herself to look back at Director Lila. Meanwhile, Lila was frowning and squeezing the length of Dave’s arm. Eventually she said, “Shandee, here’s your best course of action. A lot of our armless men end up at the Hall of the Armless Men Who Still Want to Fuck Twat. That’s way across the salt marshes.” “Oh, okay,” said Shandee. “With those legs on you, you’ll have to get yourself a tall pair of waders. They’re sold on O Street, at a little place called Wade for Me. Ask for Angelo, he’s a sweetheart. He’ll measure you all over. But first I’m going to ask you to give us some help right here in Intake.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Wait.” She rode his thigh, looking at his spent cock and remembering how it had felt in her mouth, and she twizzled her riddler and moved back and forth on the wet slippery spot on his thigh, and finally she whispered, “Oh, Nedbody, here I come.” She clamped her legs around his thigh and came and came and came. Then she flung herself down on the bed next to him and laughed. Nedbody was asleep already, breathing quietly. Luna Fucks a Penis Tre e L una woke up in the House of Holes Hotel. She had a great contentment bubbling inside her like the little bubbles that you see when you shake up a bottle of salad dressing. “So,” said Lila to Luna, when Luna wandered into her office after a shower. “What is your plan for joy today?” “I feel pretty today,” said Luna. “You are pretty,” said Lila. “My breasts feel heavy and flirty. Do you want to see them?” “Yes, of course, always,” said Lila. “But let me call in a man so he can see, too.” “No,” said Luna, “just for you.” Luna lifted her clean, pale-blue shirt and scooped her bra up slowly, letting her breasts fall and bobble. “They do look heavy,” said Lila. “And flirty.” “Do you want to feel them?” “Sure. ” Luna walked toward Lila and arched her back and leaned forward. Lila thumb-tweaked both of Luna’s nipples at the same time, which made Luna shiver. “As hard as little erasers,” Lila said, “erasing all inhibitions.” “Lila,” said Luna, “I want to be fucked so many ways right now I don’t know where to start. I’m beside myself. In the shower I thought, I want to be fucked by a tree!” “Well, now,” Lila mused, “we do have Jason’s Woods. That’s where we get the hardwood for our salad bowls and our Dendro line of peckerwood dildos. Have you tried a Dendro dildo?” “Can’t say I have.” “Then you’re in for a treat. Anyway, what I’ve been told is that some of the older pearwood trees have had their branches cut so often that they’ve developed semihuman traits, and now they are known to exhibit sexual desires of their own. There’s a man in there, Jason, who makes the bowls. He’ll know the grove of pearwoods I mean. Daggett can buzz you over there in a cart.” She pressed a button. “Daggett, we need you, hon.” “Thank you, Lila,” said Luna. “Your pleasure is my pleasure. Where is Daggett? He’s a little slower because he misses his cods. Oh, I should say: You’re going to have to let Jason hold your breasts, I think. He can’t make bowls without inspiration.” “I can live with that.” Daggett drove Luna in silence down a long curving path, past the lake.

• From The City of God

  406 Books That Matter: The City of God are or can be the captains, as it were, of our own particular, individual ships. This, Augustine thinks, is the root of our error. No one in the Roman world had held such a theological or philosophical view. The closest anyone came to it would be the ancient Greek tragedians, 800 and more years before Augustine, they had held to a vision of human life significantly and inescapably under the whim of fate or luck. The philosophical tradition from Socrates and Plato forward had dedicated themselves to rejecting that view, and even in the City we earlier saw Cicero rejecting fatalism on grounds that recapitulate that tradition’s overall critique of the tragedians. And we saw also that for Augustine this criticism misunderstood the alternatives available to it, and that providence, while functionally similar in some ways to fatalism, was ultimately very different indeed. Ironically, the very failure of our hopes reveals to us a crucial clue for a better way. The multitudinous ways in which our happiness is vexed show us something positive, in their various modes of frustration, they exhibit the depth and breadth of the universal longing for happiness, and they give us some clues as to what that happiness looks like. The true happiness must be, Augustine says, the truest kind of peace. Once happiness is redescribed as peace, for Augustine, then we have a useful concept with which to understand any society. For peace is the instinctive aim of all—even wars, he says, are fought for peace; the body needs the peace of equilibrium; even pride desires peace, though its peace is a perverted imitatio Dei. In the ancient world’s most careful analysis of the idea of peace, effectively, in fact, the ancient world’s only analysis of the idea of peace. Augustine spends 10 chapters in this book analyzing the multiple kinds of peace we find in the cosmos, to show that true peace is the tranquility of order, what he calls “the perfectly ordered and harmonious enjoyment of God and of one another in God,” wherein each receives its due; peace then, is a kind of consummation of justice.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Then she took off her shirt and put on the men’s shirt, buttoning three of its buttons. “Okay to look now,” she said. “Ta-dah.” “Nice!” said Hax, sitting up. Dune sprawled and smiled, lifting an eyebrow of approval. Ruzty blushed. Dave’s arm drummed his fingers. Zilka reappeared. “Director Lila is ready to talk to you,” she said to Shandee. Together they went into the inner office. There was an oscillating fan going. Director Lila was on the phone, toying with a banana in a fruit bowl. “Well then,” she was saying, “we’ll just suck it all out. If we have to we have to.” She hung up. “Shandee, sweetheart, I’m sorry it’s so hectic today. And this must be Dave’s arm. Yes, yes. Aren’t you cute together. May I?” Shandee handed Lila the arm, and Lila pressed Dave’s hand against her face. “Mmmm, gentle touch he has.” “I think I’m a bit in love,” said Shandee, “and the weird thing is I don’t know what Dave looks like, or what his voice is like, or what his personality is like, or anything.” “Ain’t that the way it is sometimes,” Lila said. “You don’t know a damn thing about them and yet you love them to pieces.” Lila gave Dave’s arm a pat, sighing, and handed it back. “There are times when I just don’t know why I’m doing all this,” she confided. “It’s not easy for you, I would imagine,” said Shandee. “No, it isn’t. The sex happiness of so many people—it weighs on you. We have our fun, sure, but we have our problems, too. The Pearloiner has been on a spree lately, stealing clits. She is one sick bitch. Zilka got her clit stolen clean away.” “That’s terrible,” said Shandee. Lila leaned forward. “That’s why she’s so vague sometimes. She’s lost her focus. And yet life does go on. You see that light?” Lila pointed to a small red light that blinked above the words PLEASURE FIRST . “Every time somebody has an orgasm somewhere in the House of Holes that light lights up. Whenever that light lights up I feel happy. I was working in hospital administration—I was seeing my friends get old, my life go by. Now I’m living. Don’t you wish you were having an orgasm right this second?” “I guess so,” said Shandee. “Well I do. After I have an orgasm I get so darn much work done. However.” She thought briefly, tapping her pen lightly on her nose. “Do you know how to fly an airplane?” “I’m sorry, I don’t.” Shandee waited. “That’s too bad.” She clicked a button. “Zilka. Could you bring those three arrivals in from the waiting room?”