Longing

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 Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  You see, I miss my Beast. As I languish here within the lonely halls of this castle, my mind often drifts back to the very first day I spent here. It was with much trepidation that I left my bedchamber that day, very cautiously, to make my way through the vast corridors that twist and turn throughout this fortress. Despite much speculation over the matter (for I had slept not one wink the night before), I could not imagine why the Beast had requested my presence there. I spent the day alone, wandering in and out of rooms and exploring the unfamiliar surroundings, while trying to guess what was in store for me. This is not to say that I came to the great castle of the Beast against my will, for I was quite anxious to leave the poverty and boredom of my childhood behind me, and so when obligation awarded me this adventure, I was not entirely dissatisfied. I could not have said what a castle should look like, but it seemed to me that everything I saw was exactly as it should be. Very austere-looking ancestors silently gazed down at me from the lofty positions where their portraits hung superciliously upon the walls. Other walls displayed splendidly woven tapestries of French picnics, Italian vineyards and other exotic affairs. The furniture was intricately carved from the finest lumber, and the carpets were extravagantly thick and colorful. In short, everything was quite extraordinary in its elegance and splendor. I did not chance to meet the Beast while roaming the castle that day. He had, upon my arrival the previous evening, instructed a servant to take me directly to my bedchamber after I had bidden my father a quick farewell, and watched with strange detachment as he loaded two brimming trunks onto his coach. These were gifts from the Beast, who instructed that they be filled with treasures for my father to take away with him. It calmed and pleased me to imagine my family’s delight when opening those trunks. I did not stir from my bedroom during the remainder of the night, sleepless though I was. I pondered the end of my old life during the long hours of that quiet night, and even into the next day as I drifted from room to room, examining everything at leisure, without seeing a single soul about the place. Supper was announced with the tinkling of a bell, and it was there that I once again encountered the Beast. Despite his gruesome appearance and gruff voice, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was, in fact, a gracious host, and we passed that first dinner with pleasant conversation and food and drink that delighted the palate. As soon as the meal was concluded, the Beast rose from the table, surveying me with his dark eyes for a moment before asking, “Will you marry me, Beauty?”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Mithridanes, having received this information and Nathan having taken leave of him, privily let his companions, who had, like himself, taken up their sojourn in the palace, know where they should look for him on the morrow; and the new day came, Nathan, whose intent was nowise at variance with the counsel he had given Mithridanes nor was anywise changed, betook himself alone to the coppice, there to die. Meanwhile, Mithridanes arose and taking his bow and his sword, for other arms he had not, mounted to horse and made for the coppice, where he saw Nathan from afar go walking all alone. Being resolved, ere he attacked him, to seek to see him and hear him speak, he ran towards him and seizing him by the fillet he had about his head, said, 'Old man, thou art dead.' Whereto Nathan answered no otherwhat than, 'Then have I merited it.' Mithridanes, hearing his voice and looking him in the face, knew him forthright for him who had so lovingly received him and familiarly companied with him and faithfully counselled him; whereupon his fury incontinent subsided and his rage was changed into shame. Accordingly, casting away the sword, which he had already pulled out to smite him, and lighting down from his horse, he ran, weeping, to throw himself at Nathan's feet and said to him, 'Now, dearest father, do I manifestly recognize your liberality, considering with what secrecy you are come hither to give me your life, whereof, without any reason, I showed myself desirous, and that to yourself; but God, more careful of mine honour than I myself, hath, in the extremest hour of need, opened the eyes of my understanding, which vile envy had closed. Wherefore, the readier you have been to comply with me, so much the more do I confess myself beholden to do penance for my default. Take, then, of me the vengeance which you deem conformable to my sin.'

• From Augustine: Philosopher and Saint (2005)

  32 Lecture 7: Faith, Love, and Grace road to get to the destination. We love the road (this earth, this mortal life) for the sake of the destination. • Enjoying means using with delight, clinging to something for its own sake, trying to ¿ nd our happiness in it. • Cupidity means trying to ¿ nd our ultimate happiness by enjoying something other than God. It makes us miserable, as the Confessions illustrates. • Enjoying God is the only thing that can make us ultimately happy. • Love unites us with what we love: hence enjoying God means being united with him. • We can enjoy our neighbors in God, i.e., being joined to them as one body joined to God (like spokes of a wheel all joined at one hub). Beauty and will: Augustine’s concept of Charity owes a great deal to Plato’s concept of eros in the Symposium and the Phaedrus, especially in the following respects: • We love what we see as beautiful. • Love aspires upward to eternal Beauty. • Love is at the deepest desire of our souls. • Love is beyond the control of our will (as anyone who has ever fallen in love knows). Grace • Justi¿ cation by Grace: ƕDe¿ nitions: justi¿ cation (= being made righteous), righteousness (= justice), grace (= gift of God). ƕFor Paul and Augustine, “righteousness” means Charity (i.e., obedience to Jesus’ twofold command of love). ƕAugustine’s key treatise on the doctrine of justi¿ cation (i.e., on how we become righteous) is On the Spirit and the Letter. ƕThe key contrast in this treatise is slavish obedience versus ¿ lial obedience, i.e., obeying God’s law out of fear or obeying it out of love.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  At one end of the chamber there stood a series of wardrobes, each so large that it exceeded, in size, the entire bedroom she had formerly shared with all of her siblings back in her father’s cottage. The wardrobes were stocked with beautiful gowns of many styles and colors, all of which were made to fit her just so. She selected a nightgown that was finer than any item of clothing she had ever before possessed and, wondering how the rest of her family had fared, she settled into the comfortable bedding that had been prepared just for her. Her previous anxiety was for the most part gone now, but upon laying her head on the velvety pillow, she was overcome with a feeling of restlessness. Everything was so perfect and yet she felt a strange emptiness and longing. Was she homesick? No, for although she loved her family, she was of an age when the solitude of private rooms, with her own possessions, was more than welcome! Besides, she could remember feeling this way in her father’s cottage, too. Back then she had thought it was simply discontent, brought about by her passionate desire for nicer things, but here was the sensation again, stronger than ever, even among such incredible luxury and wealth. She still suffered with that same yearning, without knowing exactly what it was she wanted. Before she had time to consider this at any great length, the door to her bedchamber abruptly opened and closed, and she heard someone enter her room. She had extinguished the candle, and no moon or starlight could creep through the thick velvet curtains that covered the windows, so she was completely unable to observe who it was. She was not immediately alarmed, however, supposing that it was only the kindly servant woman, returning to tuck her in for the night or, perhaps, even, perceiving her unspoken and melancholy longing, the woman had duly fetched the vague thing and promptly brought it to her! For hadn’t the bear promised that her every wish would be immediately granted? But there was none of the servant’s silly chattering this time; no, not even an answer when the girl inquired, “Who is it, please?” She slowly sat up in the bed and instinctively turned her head toward the intruder, straining to detect the meaning of the soft shuffling sounds she now heard. As she stared into the blackness her eyes opened wider. Their sightless orbs darted back and forth in sudden terror. At length it occurred to her that the trespasser had undressed. Then she heard someone approach the bed. She was hardly able to breathe, she was so terrified, but she somehow managed to whisper, “Who is it?” Still the stranger said nothing. “Who is it?” she repeated, more frantically. “Is it you, Mr. Bear?” But even as she asked this, she realized it could not be so, for the bear did not wear clothes or shoes, as had this uninvited visitor.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It chanced one day that, her father offering to do her every pleasure, she bethought herself, and she might aptly, to seek, before she died, to make the king acquainted with her love and her intent, and accordingly she prayed him bring her Minuccio d'Arezzo. Now this Minuccio was in those days held a very quaint and subtle singer and player and was gladly seen of the king; and Bernardo concluded that Lisa had a mind to hear him sing and play awhile. Accordingly, he sent to tell him, and Minuccio, who was a man of a debonair humour, incontinent came to her and having somedele comforted her with kindly speech, softly played her a fit or two on a viol he had with him and after sang her sundry songs, the which were fire and flame unto the damsel's passion, whereas he thought to solace her. Presently she told him that she would fain speak some words with him alone, wherefore, all else having withdrawn, she said to him, 'Minuccio, I have chosen thee to keep me very faithfully a secret of mine, hoping in the first place that thou wilt never discover it to any one, save to him of whom I shall tell thee, and after that thou wilt help me in that which lieth in thy power; and of this I pray thee Thou must know, then, Minuccio mine, that the day our lord King Pedro held the great festival in honour of his exaltation to the throne, it befell me, as he tilted, to espy him at so dour a point[459] that for the love of him there was kindled in my heart a fire that hath brought me to this pass wherein thou seest me, and knowing how ill my love beseemeth to a king, yet availing not, let alone to drive it away, but even to abate it, and it being beyond measure grievous to me to bear, I have as a lesser evil elected to die, as I shall do. True it is that I should begone hence cruelly disconsolate, an he first knew it not; wherefore, unknowing by whom I could more aptly acquaint him with this my resolution than by thyself, I desire to commit it to thee and pray thee that thou refuse not to do it, and whenas thou shalt have done it, that thou give me to know thereof, so that, dying comforted, I may be assoiled of these my pains.' And this said, she stinted, weeping. [Footnote 459: _In si forte punto_, or, in modern parlance, at so critical or ill-starred a moment.]

• From Fragments (7)

  Thou hast failed to earn a share. No, for thee there will be no wailing: Unbeloved and unknown, Wilt thou go to Hades' dwelling When thy shade has downward floAvn. 36 Sappho SAPPHO TO HER LYRE (58) Come now, tortoise-shell divine, Tuneful powers of speech be thine. SPURIOUS FRAGMENT TO THE MUSE (59) Teach me, I pray, O Muse enthroned in gold, Delightful song^ like that famed singer old. The bard of Teos, sang, whose lyre Fair Teap women did inspire. SAPPHO THE PUPIL OF THE MUSES (60) To me they bounteous honor brought; To me their heavenly arts they taught. SAPPHO ON HER GENIUS (61) •^ It seems to me, it would not lack much But that the heavens I would touch. HER HOPE OF IMMORTALITY (62) In future ages, I am sure, Our memory will still endure. 37 Lyric SonffS of the Greeks SAPPHO'S SONG FOR HER GIRL FRIENDS (63) For the maidens to whom I'm by friendship bound, For their pleasure this beautiful song shall resound. HER LOYALTY TO HER GIRL FRIENDS (64) Whose honor e'er is steadfast found, To you by eternal ties I am bound. SAPPHO'S TEMPERAMENT (65) I have not a malignant mind, But gentle as a child and kind. (66) > In me doth burn the fire ^" Of longing and desire. SAPPHO'S TASTES (67) ' In dainty luxury I delight; I love the beauteous sun-beam bright. 38 Sappho SAPPHO ON HER DEATH-BED TO' HER DAUGHTER (68) Nay, uttering dirges in the Muses' seat We suffer not; for us that were not meet. GNOM^ AND PROVERBIAL EXPRESSIONS KEEP GUARD ON THY TONGUE (69) When seized by passion's angry lure, , A chattering tongue do not endure. BEAUTY (70) The fair are beautiful alone for sight; But beauteous too are those who follow right. WEALTH (71) Mere wealth with virtue not allied I scarce would welcome at my side. 39 Lyric Songs of the Greeks EMPTY PRIDE (72) Don't plume thyself upon a thing Of no more worth than is a ring. THE RUBBLE-STONE (73) The rubble-stone Leave thou alone. NO HONEY FOR ME (74) No honey be for me; For me no honey-bee. OVERFOND MOTHERS (75) Though Gello children doth adore, Yet loveth she them even more. DEATH AN EVIL (76) The gods have judged: an evil 'tis to die. If good it were, Death would not pass them by. 40 Sappho SAPPHO'S LOVE OF NATURE THE MOON AND THE STARS (77) Around the full moon's silver face, When brightest it doth beam, And when its orb is all ablaze, The stars conceal their gleam. THE EVENING-STAR (78) Of all the stars this star Most beauteous is by far. A DELIGHTFUL SPOT (79) Cool water trickles from above Through apple-trees. Sleep stealeth from their leaves, which move In the murmuring breeze. CHICKPEAS (80) Golden chickpeas, brightly glowing. On the sandy shore were growing. 41 Lyric Songs of the Greeks DOVES (8i)

• From Fragments (7)

  But nowr among the Lydians she dwelleth, And, like the moon at night, she there excelleth, l^ Aye, like the rosy-fingered queen, Which conquers all the stars, in radiance gleaming. Across the briny Ocean brightly beaming, And o'er the flowery meadow green. Refreshing dew-drops leaves and flowers cover; The gorgeous roses and the honeyed clover, Anthriscus too is now in bloom. But when she thinks of Atthis, gentle maiden, Her heart with longing and with sorrow laden, She anxiously about doth roam. She loudly calls to us to follow thither. In vain — for Night of Thousand Ears lets hither No sound across the waters come. TO GONGYLE (13) Ah, Gongyle! come here to me. Clad in thy milk-white dress. Now Love again doth flit near thee, And showeth thy loveliness. 25 Lyric Songs of the Greeks The very sight of the splendor bright Of thy robe brought a thrill to thee; But Cypris herself to my great delight Is distraught with jealousy. LESSER FRAGMENTS RELATING TO SAPPHO'S GIRL FRIENDS ATTHIS (H) *Twas very, very long ago, O Atthis, thou my love didst know. (15) A little child thou seemedst to me; In thee could I no graces see. (i6) To think of me, Atthis, is hateful to thee: To Andromeda now hast thou flitted from me. HERO (17) Hero, nmner fleet, I taught. Who from Gyara was brought. 26 Sappho ERANNA (i8) Eranna, never yet, wherever I have been, Have I than thee a more disdainful woman seen. A COMPARISON (19) Though fair Gyrinno gentle be. Far lovelier is Mnesidice. TO DICE (MNESIDICE) (20) Put, O Dice, a wreath on thy beautiful tresses; With thy delicate hands shoots of anise plait; For a flower-covered maid by the blessed Graces Is favored, but those without garlands they hate. TO AN UNKNOWN FRIEND (21) Gently, gently mayest thou rest On thy dear companion's breast. IN THE BLOOM OF HER YOUTH (22) She now has reached her youthful bloom; Her time for plaiting wreaths has come. 27 Lyric Songs of the Greeks A GIFTED PUPIL (23) Of all the maidens fair for whom the sun doth rise, Now and in times to come not one will be so wise. A LOST PUPIL (24) Far more than I 'tis some one else Whose love thy heart at present thrills. (25) But utterly Forget'st thou me. BRIDAL SONGS THE BRIDEGROOM (26) \ Lift high the roof to give him room — Hymenaeus. Ye wrorkmen, lift again — Hymenaeus. Like mighty Ares now doth come The bridegroom taller than tall men. 28 Sappho U7) His rivals he outstrips with ease, Like Lesbian bards those of all Greece. (a8) To what, dear bridegroom, should I most rightly thee compare? I thee would best compare to a slender sapling fair. THE BRIDE (29) Like the sweet apple which reddens, far up on the high tree-top growing. Up on the loftiest branch, scarce itself to the gath- erers showing —

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  I am longing for you. . . ." Absence had emboldened me. Distance had given me claim to "normality." I had, so to speak, accepted "normality" as a temporary employee in the corporation of my body. A person who is separated from one by time and space takes on an abstract quality. Perhaps this was the reason why the blind devotion I felt for Sonoko and my ever-present unnatural desires of the flesh had now been fused within me into a single homogenous mass and had pinned me immobile to each succeeding instant of time as a human being without any self-contradictions. I was free. Everyday life had become a thing of unspeakable happiness. There was a rumor that the enemy would probably make a landing soon in S Bay and that the region in which the arsenal stood would be overwhelmed. And again, even more than before, I found myself deeply immersed in a desire for death. It was in death that I had discovered my real "life's aim." One Saturday in mid-April I received permission to take the first leave I had been granted in a long time. I went first to the house in Tokyo, planning to get some books from my bookcase for reading at the arsenal and then go on at once to spend the night at my grandfather's place in the suburbs, where my mother and the others were living. But on the way, while the train was starting and stopping in obedience to the air-raid signals, I had a sudden chill. I felt violently dizzy and a hot languor spread through my body. From frequent experience I recognized the symptoms as tonsilitis. As soon as I reached the Tokyo house I had the houseboy spread the covers and went right to bed. Before long the animated sound of a woman's voice rose from downstairs and grated against my fevered forehead. I heard someone mount the stairs and come tripping down the corridor. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw the skirt of a large-patterned kimono. ". . . What's this? What a lazy person you are!”“Oh," I said, "hello, Chako." "What do you mean saying just 'Oh hello' when we haven't met for almost five years?"She was the daughter of a family distantly related to us. Her name of Chieko had been twisted into Chako, and this was what we all called her. She was five years my senior. The last time I had seen her had been at her wedding. But last year her husband had died at the front, and people had begun gossiping about her, saying she was becoming strangely lighthearted.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  [64] Again, the last perfection and perfect good of anything one chooses depends upon something higher, for even bodily things are made better by the addition of better things and worse by being mixed with baser things. If gold is mingled with silver, the silver is made better, while by an admixture of lead it is rendered impure. Now it is manifest that all earthly things are beneath the human mind. But happiness is the last perfection and the perfect good of man, which all men desire to reach. Therefore there is no earthly thing which could make man happy, nor is any earthly thing a sufficient reward for a king. For, as Augustine” says, “we do not call Christian princes happy merely because they have reigned a long time, or because after a peaceful death they have left their sons to rule, or because they subdued the enemies of the state, or because they were able to guard against or to suppress citizens who rose up against them. Rather do we call them happy if they rule justly, if they prefer to rule their passions rather than nations, and if they do all things not for the love of vainglory but for the love of eternal happiness. Such Christian emperors we say are happy, now in hope, afterwards in very fact when that which we await shall come to pass. But neither is there any other created thing which would make a man happy and which could be set up as the reward for a king. For the desire of each thing tends towards its source, whence is the cause of its being. But the cause of the human soul is none other than God Who made it to His own image. Therefore it is God alone Who can still the desires of man and make him happy and be the fitting reward for a king. [65] Furthermore, the human mind knows the universal good through the intellect, and desires it through the will: but the universal good is not found except in God. Therefore there is nothing which could make man happy, fulfilling his every desire, but God, of Whom it is said in the Psalm (102:5): “Who satisfies your desire with good things.” In this, therefore, should the king place his reward. Wherefore, King David,” with this in mind, said (Ps 72:25,28): “What have I in heaven? And besides You what do I desire upon earth?” and he afterwards adds in answer to this question: “It is good for me to adhere to my God and to put my hope in the Lord God.” For it is He Who gives salvation to kings, not merely temporal salvation by which He saves both men and beasts together, but also that salvation of which He says by the mouth of Isaiah (51:6): “But my salvation shall be for ever,” that salvation by which He saves man and makes them equal to the angels.

• From Fragments (7)

  No longer, mother dear, can I Endure to work my wheel. Through Aphrodite for that boy Such longing do I feel. 33 >/ Lyric Songs of the Greeks MIDNIGHT SOLITUDE (46) The moon has left the heavens; The Pleiades have set; And at the hour of midnight In jsolitude I fret. TO A FRIEND (47) Come, my friend, before my face; Show thine eyes' engaging grace. TO ALCAEUS (48) If aught for honor or for right thou hadst cared, Nor by thy tongue to ill hadst been constrained, For modesty thou wouldst not have refrained, But openly to speak for right thou hadst dared. A REFUSAL (49) A friend of thee 1*11 ever be, But win thyself a younger bride. My greater age refuses me That always I with thee abide. 34 Sappho ANOTHER (50) I'll marry never, A maid be ever. SAPPHO'S FALSE FRIENDS (51) Those whom I serve with all my might With base decqption me requite. SAPPHO'S ENEMIES AND RIVALS A CURSE (52) Far from his course may winds him bear, And may he be oppressed with care. ANDROMEDA (53) What boorish creature see I there, With finery her rudeness veiling, Who doesn't e'en know how to wear Her robe behind her ankles trailing? 35 Lyric Songs of the Greeks (S4) A glorious return Andromeda did earn. GORGO (55) She who Gorgo once did love Has of her more than enough. THE CHILD OF POLYANAX (56) To the child of Polyanax I Bid a hearty and long good-bye. TO A RICH BUT UNEDUCATED WOMAN (57) When grim death thy eyelids closes, Then shall no one for thee care; For of the Pierian roses Thou hast failed to earn a share. No, for thee there will be no 'wailing: Unbeloved and unknown, Wilt thou go to Hades' dwelling When ttiy shade has downward flown. 36 Sappho SAPPHO TO HER LYRE (58) Come now, tortoise-shell divine, Tuneful powers of speech be thine. SPURIOUS FRAGMENT TO THE MUSE (59) Teach me, I pray, O Muse enthroned in gold, Delightful songs like that famed singer old, The bard of Teos, sang, whose lyre Fair Tean women did inspire. SAPPHO THE PUPIL OF THE MUSES (60) To me they bounteous honor brought; To me their heavenly arts they taught. SAPPHO ON HER GENIUS (61) It seems to me, it would not lack much But that the heavens I would touch. HER HOPE OF IMMORTALITY (62) In future ages, I am sure. Our memory will still endure. 37 Lyric Songs of the Greeks I SAPPHO'S SONG FOR HER GIRL FRIENDS (63) For the maidens to whom I'm by friendship bound, For their pleasure this beautiful song shall resound. HER LOYALTY TO HER GIRL FRIENDS (64) Whose honor e'er is steadfast found, To you by eternal ties I am bound. SAPPHO'S TEMPERAMENT (65) I have not a malignant mind, But gentle as a child and kind. (66) In me doth bum the fire Of longing and desire. SAPPHO'S TASTES (67)

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  All that Angela gave seemed the gift of love; all that Angela withheld seemed withheld out of honour: ‘ If only I were free,’ she was always saying, ‘ but I can’t deceive Ralph, you know I can’t, Stephen — he’s ill.” Then Stephen would feel abashed and ashamed before so much pity and honour. She would humble herself to the very dust, as one who was altogether unworthy: ‘ I’m a beast, forgive me; I’m all, all wrong ~I’m mad sometimes these days — yes, of course, there’s Ralph.’ But the thought of Ralph would be past all bearing, so that she must reach out for Angela’s hand. Then, as likely as not, they would draw together and start kissing, and Stephen would be utterly undone by those painful and terribly sterile kisses. ‘God!’ she would mutter, ‘I want to get away!’ At which Angela might weep: ‘ Don’t leave me, Stephen! I’m so lonely — why can’t you understand that I’m only trying to be decent to Ralph?’ So Stephen would stay on for an hour, for two hours, and the next day would find her once more at The Grange, because Angela was feeling so lonely. For Angela could never quite let the girl go. She herself would be rather bewildered at moments — she did not love Stephen, she was quite sure of that, and yet the very strangeness of it all was an attraction. Stephen was becoming a kind of strong drug, a kind of anodyne against boredom. And then Angela knew her own power to subdue; she could play with fire yet re- main unscathed by it. She had only to cry long and bitterly enough for Stephen to grow pitiful and consequently gentle. ‘Stephen, don’t hurt me—I’m awfully frightened when you're like this — you simply terrify me, Stephen! Is it my fault that I married Ralph before I met you? Be good to me, Stephen!’ And then would come tears, so that Stephen must hold her as though she were a child, very tenderly, rocking her backwards and forwards. They took to driving as far as the hills, taking Tony with them; he liked hunting the rabbits — and while he leapt wildly about in the air to land on nothing more vital than herbage, they would sit very close to each other and watch him. Stephen knew THE WELL OF LONELINESS 165 many places where lovers might sit like this, unashamed, among those charitable hills. There were times when a numbness de- scended upon her as they sat there, and if Angela kissed her cheek lightly, she would not respond, would not even look round, but would just go on staring at Tony. Yet at other times she felt queerly uplifted, and turning to the woman who leant against her shoulder, she said suddenly one day:

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  He seemed to have chosen me as a readily agreeable partner with whom he could be at ease while asking various questions about first-year German lessons, with which he was having great difficulty. As I am always enthusiastic about a new thing until its newness is gone, I gave the appearance of being an excellent German student, though only during that first year. Nukada must have realized intuitively how much I secretly detested the label of honor student that I had been given and how I longed for a "bad reputation." Honor student—I told myself it was a label that would better become a theology major, and yet I could find no other that would provide me with better camouflage. Nukada's friendship contained something that appealed to this weak point of mine—because he was the object of much jealousy on the part of the "tough boys" in our school; because through him I caught faint echoes of communications from the world of women, in exactly the same way that one communicates with the spirit world through a medium. Omi had been the first medium between me and the world of women. But at that time I had been more my natural self, and so had been content to count his special qualifications as a medium as but a part of his beauty. Nukada's role as a medium, however, became the supernatural framework for my curiosity. This was probably due, at least in part, to the fact that Nukada was not at all beautiful. The lips that had become my obsession were those of Nukada's elder sister, whom I saw when I went to visit at his house. It was easy for this beautiful girl of twenty-three to treat me as a child. By watching the men who surrounded her, I came to realize that I possessed not a single trait that could attract a woman. Thus, at long last, I admitted to myself that I could never become an Omi and, upon further consideration, that my desire to become like Omi had in fact been love for Omi. And yet I was still convinced that I was in love with Nukada's sister. Acting exactly like any other inexperienced higher-school student of my age, I hung about the neighborhood of her house, patiently passing long hours at a nearby bookshop, hoping for a chance of stopping her if she should pass; I hugged a cushion and imagined the feeling of embracing her, drew countless pictures of her lips, and talked to myself as though out of my mind. And what was the good of it all?

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  One spring afternoon, as the ugly duckling rested languidly under the shade of a large tree in her yard, reading a book, there suddenly appeared a dark shadow directly above her. She looked up and beheld the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes upon. He was well formed and dark, and stood smiling down at her. Half thinking the apparition to be a figment of her imagination (perhaps a character out of the romantic story she had been reading) she at first only stared mutely at him. Seeing her startled expression, the young man spoke to her in a friendly tone, explaining that he was merely passing through on his way to a nearby pond for an afternoon swim. Apparently the only way to reach the obscure little pond was by trespassing through the ugly duckling’s yard! The ugly duckling recognized the handsome young man as a fellow student in the same school that she attended. She secretly felt that she would enjoy seeing him on warm summer days as he made his way to the pond for an afternoon swim. Perhaps a bit too warmly, she informed him that he was perfectly welcome to cross her yard as often as he liked. But the handsome young man did not immediately leave her upon gaining her consent, lingering instead to ask her about the book she was reading, her classes at the university, and other matters about herself that no man had ever asked her about before. The ugly duckling’s eyes shone with happiness as she chatted with her new friend, but suddenly the images of her sisters flashed before her and she remembered that she was ugly. At once she felt ashamed to have any man look upon her, and so, making up an excuse, she abruptly escaped into her cottage, where she watched from a small window as the young man left in the direction of the pond. He was energetic and healthy, with large arms and shoulders, and she wished for the thousandth time that she was beautiful like her sisters. The days grew warmer and before long the trees and flowers were in full bloom. The young man now passed through the ugly duckling’s yard nearly every day on his way to the pond beyond. And each time he passed he would stop and speak to her. Slowly she got over her self-consciousness around him, even looking forward to his visits, and they got to know each other better. Sometimes they would pass each other at the university, and he would thrill her by calling out to her. One day the handsome young man asked the ugly duckling to join him at the pond. She abruptly declined, but from that day forward she felt a strange pull towards the pond, and often found herself wondering what the water was like, and how it would feel to splash around in it with her handsome friend.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  There was, then, in Florence a noble youth, whose name was Tedaldo Elisei and who, being beyond measure enamoured of a lady called Madam Ermellina, the wife of one Aldobrandino Palermini, deserved for his praiseworthy fashions, to enjoy his desire. However, Fortune, the enemy of the happy, denied him this solace, for that, whatever might have been the cause, the lady, after complying awhile with Tedaldo's wishes, suddenly altogether withdrew her good graces from him and not only refused to hearken to any message of his, but would on no wise see him; wherefore he fell into a dire and cruel melancholy; but his love for her had been so hidden that none guessed it to be the cause of his chagrin. After he had in divers ways studied amain to recover the love himseemed he had lost without his fault and finding all his labour vain, he resolved to withdraw from the world, that he might not afford her who was the cause of his ill the pleasure of seeing him pine away; wherefore, without saying aught to friend or kinsman, save to a comrade of his, who knew all, he took such monies as he might avail to have and departing secretly, came to Ancona, where, under the name of Filippo di Sanlodeccio, he made acquaintance with a rich merchant and taking service with him, accompanied him to Cyprus on board a ship of his. His manners and behaviour so pleased the merchant that he not only assigned him a good wage, but made him in part his associate and put into his hands a great part of his affairs, which he ordered so well and so diligently that in a few years he himself became a rich and famous and considerable merchant; and albeit, in the midst of these his dealings, he oft remembered him of his cruel mistress and was grievously tormented of love and yearned sore to look on her again, such was his constancy that seven years long he got the better of the battle. But, chancing one day to hear sing in Cyprus a song that himself had made aforetime and wherein was recounted the love he bore his mistress and she him and the pleasure he had of her, and thinking it could not be she had forgotten him, he flamed up into such a passion of desire to see her again that, unable to endure longer, he resolved to return to Florence.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  [108] If this end could be attained by the power of human nature, then the duty of a king would have to include the direction of men to it. We are supposing, of course, that he is called king to whom the supreme power of governing in human affairs is entrusted. Now the higher the end to which a government is ordained, the loftier that government is. Indeed, we always find that the one to whom it pertains to achieve the final end commands those who execute the things that are ordained to that end. For example, the captain, whose business it is to regulate navigation, tells the shipbuilder what kind of ship he must construct to be suitable for navigation; and the ruler of a city, who makes use of arms, tells the blacksmith what kind of arms to make. But because a man does not attain his end, which is the possession of God, by human power but by divine according to the words of the Apostle (Rom 6:23): “By the grace of God life everlasting”—therefore the task of leading him to that last end does not pertain to human but to divine government. [109] Consequently, government of this kind pertains to that king who is not only a man, but also God, namely, our Lord Jesus Christ, Who by making men sons of God brought them to the glory of Heaven. This then is the government which has been delivered to Him and which “shall not be destroyed” (Dan 7:14), on account of which He is called, in Holy Writ, not Priest only, but King. As Jeremiah says (23:5): “The king shall reign and he shall be wise.” Hence a royal priesthood is derived from Him, and what is more, all those who believe in Christ, in so far as they are His members, are called kings and priests. [110] Thus, in order that spiritual things might be distinguished from earthly things, the ministry of this kingdom has been entrusted not to earthly kings but to priests, and most of all to the chief priest, the successor of St. Peter, the Vicar of Christ, the Roman Pontiff. To him all the kings of the Christian People Footnote are to be subject as to our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. Footnote For those to whom pertains the care of intermediate ends should be subject to him to whom pertains the care of the ultimate end, and be directed by his rule.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  My name is Beauty. It is likely that you have heard of me. My story, or rather, the one they tell of me, has been told too many times to count. But that is not really my story at all. The particulars have been disregarded entirely. I would have thought that with all the telling of it someone would have, just once, stumbled upon the truth. And perhaps some of you did read between those illusory lines and suspect the truth, incredible and shocking as it is. Or maybe the truth is really too fantastic to believe. I admit there are times when I can hardly believe it myself, and it all seems like a faraway dream. In fact, some of what has been put down in the various accounts of my life is true, for, in order to save my poor father’s life, I did consent to live with a fearsome creature that was more beast than man. It is also true that I fell in love with the Beast. As for what happened after that, the storybooks are quite accurate in their exposition for the Beast, immediately upon my avowal of love, was released from an evil curse and returned to his original form as a charming prince. We were married that very day. But that is where the similarities between the legends you have read and my own incredible narrative end. For I have not lived “happily ever after” since that day. You see, I miss my Beast.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Therefore, the second means whereby a man may be more free to devote himself to God, and to cleave more perfectly to Him, is by the observance of perpetual chastity. But continence possesses the further advantage of affording a peculiar facility to the acquirement of perfection. For, the soul is hindered in its free access to God, not only by the love of exterior things, but much more by force of interior passions. And, amongst these passions, the lust of the flesh does, beyond all others, overpower reason. Hence in Soliloquiorum (lib. 1) St. Augustine says, “I know nothing which doth more cast a manly soul down from the tower of its strength, than do the caresses of a woman, and the physical contact essential to marriage.” Thus, continence is most necessary to perfection. It is the way pointed out by St. Paul (1 Cor. vii. 25), “Concerning virgins I have no commandment of the Lord, but I give counsel, as having obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful.” The advantage of virginity is also shown in St. Matthew (xix. 12). When the disciples said to Our Lord, “If the case of a man with his wife be so, it is not expedient to marry,” He answered, “All men take not this word but those to whom it is given.” By these words we see the difficulty involved in continence, and the inadequacy of human virtue to lead such a life without the grace of God. We read in the Book of Wisdom (viii. 21), “I knew that I could not otherwise be continent except God gave it; and this also was a point of wisdom to know whose gift it was.” This saying is also borne out by the words of St. Paul (1 Cor. vii. 7), “I wish all men were as myself” (i.e. a virgin), “but everyone has his proper gift from God; one after this manner, and another after that.” In these words he distinctly asserts that continence is a gift of God. But, lest anyone should, on the other hand, fail to use his own endeavour to obtain this gift, our Lord exhorts all men to it. He first gives an illustration, saying, “There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs”; “not,”as St. Chrysostom explains, “by mutilation, but by resisting evil thoughts.” Then Christ goes on to invite all men to follow this example, for the sake of its reward. “There are some,” He continues, “who have made themselves eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven.” The Book of Wisdom also says (iv. 2), “The chaste generation triumphs, crowned for ever, winning the reward of undefiled conflicts.” Finally, Our Lord exhorts men to continence, by the words, “He that can take, let him take it.” “This,” says St. Jerome, “is the voice of the Lord encouraging his soldiers to win the prize of chastity. It is as if He said: he that can fight, let him fight and conquer.”

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  Although I feared that Omi's only reaction would be one of displeasure, I was impelled by an indescribable passion, and no sooner had I shouted out than I found myself running down the steep slope toward him. As I ran, a most undreamed-of sound came reverberating toward me—a friendly shout from him, filled with his power: "Hey, don't step on the letters!" He certainly seemed to be a different person this morning. As a rule, even when he went home he never did his homework, but left his schoolbooks in his locker and came to school in the mornings with both hands thrust in his overcoat pockets, barely in time to shed his coat dexterously and fall in at the tail end of class formation. What a change today! Not only must he have been whiling away the time by himself since early morning, but now he welcomed me with his inimitable smile, both friendly and rough at the same time—welcomed me, whom he had always treated as a snot-nosed child, beneath contempt. How I had been longing for that smile, the flash of those youthful white teeth!But when I got close enough to see his smiling face distinctly, my heart lost its passion of the moment before, when I had shouted "Hey!" Now, suddenly, I became paralyzed with timidity. I was pulled up short by the flashing realization that at heart Omi was a lonely person. His smile was probably assumed in order to hide the weak spot in his armor, which my understanding had chanced upon, but this fact did not hurt me so much as it hurt the image I had been constructing of him. The instant I had seen that enormous omi drawn in the snow, I had understood, perhaps half-unconsciously, all the nooks and corners of his loneliness—understood also the real motive, probably not clearly understood even by himself, that brought him to school this early in the morning. . . . If my idol had now mentally bent his knee to me, offering some such excuse as "I came early for the snow fight," I would certainly have lost from within me something even more important than the pride he would have lost. Feeling it was up to me to speak, I nervously tried to think of something to say. "The snowfight's out for today, isn't it?" I finally said. "I thought it was going to snow more though." "H'm." He assumed an expression of indifference. The strong outline of his jaw hardened again in his cheeks, and a sort of pitying disdain toward me revived. He was obviously making an effort to regard me as a child, and his eyes again began to gleam insolently.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  And it was a debasement more evil than that of any normal kind of love. Indeed, of all the kinds of decay in this world, decadent purity is the most malignant. Nevertheless, in my unrequited love for Omi, in this the first love I encountered in life, I seemed like a baby bird keeping its truly innocent animal lusts hidden under its wing. I was being tempted, not by the desire for possession, but simply by unadorned temptation itself. To say the least, while at school, particularly during a boring class, I could not take my eyes off Omi's profile. What more could I have done when I did not know that to love is both to seek and to be sought? For me love was nothing but a dialogue of little riddles, with no answers given. As for my spirit of adoration, I never even imagined it to be a thing that required some sort of answer. One day I had a cold and, even though it was not at all serious, stayed home from school. Upon returning to school the next day, I discovered that the day I had chosen to miss had been nothing less than the day of the first spring physical examination in our third year. Several other students had likewise missed the examination, and we all went along together to the medical office. In the office a gas stove was sending up such a feeble blue flame into the sunlight that one could not even be certain it was lit. There was nothing but the smell of disinfectants. Nowhere was there that pale-pink smell, like hot sugared milk, so characteristic of a room where a crowd of boys are awaiting a physical examination, their naked bodies pushing and jostling against each other. Instead there was only a handful of us, taking off our clothes in silence, shivering miserably. . . . There was a skinny boy who, like me, was always catching cold. He was standing on the scales, and as I looked at his pale, bony back, covered with down, I suddenly remembered my everlasting, fierce desire to see Omi's naked body. I realized how stupid I had been not to have foreseen what a perfect opportunity the physical examination of the day before would have provided for achieving that desire. Now the opportunity was already lost; there was nothing to do but go on awaiting some random chance in the future. I turned pale. In the pallid goose-flesh that suddenly covered me I was experiencing a form of regret like some piercing cold. I stared vacantly into the air, scratching the ugly vaccination scars on my thin arms. My name was called. The scales looked exactly like a scaffold proclaiming the hour of my execution.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  After all, Tokyo covers a vast area and even such an air raid as that of the night before could not affect it all.A few days later I visited the Kusano house, taking some books I had promised to lend Sonoko. There will be no need to give their titles when I say they were just the sort of novels that a young man of twenty should choose for a girl of eighteen. I experienced an unusual delight in doing the conventional thing. Sonoko happened to be out, but was expected back soon. I waited for her in the parlor. While I was waiting, the sky of early spring became as cloudy as lye; it began to rain. Sonoko had apparently been caught in the rain on her way home, for when she came into the gloomy parlor drops of water still glistened here and there in her hair. Shrugging her shoulders, she sat down in the shadows at one end of the deep sofa. Again a smile spread across her lips. She was wearing a crimson jacket, from which the roundness of her breasts seem to loom up in the thin darkness. How timidly we talked, with what a paucity of words! This was the first opportunity we had ever had to be alone together. It was obvious that the carefree way we had talked to each other on that brief train journey had been due largely to the presence of the chatterbox behind us and of the two sisters. Today there remained not a vestige of that boldness which, only a few days before, had led me to hand her a oneline love letter written on a scrap of paper. Even more than before I was overcome with a feeling of humbleness. I was a person who could not help becoming serious whenever I let my guard down, but I was not afraid to do so before her. Had I forgotten my act? Had I forgotten that I was determined to fall utterly in love like any other person? However that may be, I had not the slightest feeling of being in love with this refreshing girl. And yet I felt at ease with her. The shower stopped and the setting sun shone into the room. Sonoko's eyes and lips gleamed. Her beauty depressed me, making me remember my own feeling of helplessness. This painful feeling made Sonoko seem all the more ephemeral. "As for us," I blurted out, "who knows how long we'll live? Suppose there were an air raid at this minute. Probably one of the bombs would fall directly on us." "Wouldn't that be wonderful!"