Love

Passages

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

Page 184 of 184 · 20 per page

• From The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (2001)

  With many men, it is their houses that I remember before anything else. That is not an excuse to underestimate other memories that I have of them, it is rather that these cannot be dissociated from their background, and that it is a spontaneous reconstruction of this background which brings back a moment of affectionate friendship or the details of the geometry of bodies. The reader may well have realised: I quickly take in the setting. Where my most intimate slit has given access, I have opened my eyes wide too. Very young, I learned to use this method, amongst others, to find my way around Paris. An architect friend whom I used to visit in his Parisian pied-á-terre on the top floor of a new building, so high up that the view from the bed dived straight into the sky, once commented that from my place in the rue Saint-Martin on the Rive Droite to his at the top of the rue Saint-Jacques on the Rive Gauche you just had to follow a straight line. I came to love the Invalides when I accompanied my dentist friend on his trips to one of his girlfriends. She had been a successful variety singer in the 1950s and she still had the bland and restrained appeal of vinyl covers of the period. She let him get on with lukewarm enthusiasm and I passed the time by playing the aesthete, scorning the low tables cluttered with a collection of tortoises of all sizes, in stone and in porcelain, and going to gaze through the windows at the sublime proportions of the buildings along the esplanade. Each home elicited a specific way of looking at it. In Eric’s apartment, the bed was the dispatching centre of a kaleidoscope of camera lenses, screens and mirrors; in Bruno’s, based on the model of Mondrian’s studio, a vase of flowers was the only focal point in a space where the door jambs, the beams, the frames of the cupboards and the furniture all seemed to be one continuous unit, all with homogenous proportions, as if the same volume repeated several times served a variety of functions, as if the big dining table, for example, was merely an elevated replica of the bed.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  He can't leave" - Ida said, "wake up" - "without talking to you and your mama, and if you don't want to, yes, you should have sent him to wake up earlier..." 'You're right, Ida; but I couldn't do that, because after all it's supposed to be! I just have to keep thinking: Still can I'm back, it's not too late yet! And there I lie, tormenting myself..." 'Like him, Tonychen? Tell me honestly!« "Yes, Ida. I would have to lie if I wanted to deny that. He's not handsome, but that doesn't matter in this life, and he's a fundamentally good man and incapable of malice, believe me. When I think of Grünlich... oh God! he kept saying that he was active and resourceful, and in a sly way cloaked his ruthlessness... Permaneder isn't like that, you see is a reproach again because he's definitely not going to be a millionaire and I think he's a bit inclined to let himself go and muddle along like they say down there... Because they're all down there like that and that's what I wanted to say, Ida, that's the thing. Namely in Munich, where he was among his own kind, among people who spoke and were like him, I really loved him, I found him so nice, so trusting and comfortable. And I noticed right away that it was mutual – which perhaps contributed to the fact that he thinks I'm a rich woman, richer than I am, I'm afraid, because mother can't give me much to take away with me, as you know... But that I'm sure he won't mind. So much money, it's not to his liking… Enough… what was I saying, Ida?” 'In Munich, Tonychen; but here?" "But here, Ida! You see what I'm trying to say. Here, where he has been completely torn out of his real surroundings, where everyone is different, stricter and more ambitious and more dignified, so to speak... Here I often have to feel embarrassed for him, yes, I'll admit it to you, Ida, I'm an honest woman , I am embarrassed for him, although it is perhaps a bad thing on my part! You see ... several times it just happened that he said "me" instead of "me" in conversation. That's what they do down there, Ida, it happens, it happens to the most educated people when they're in a good mood, and it doesn't hurt anyone and doesn't cost anything and gets lost along with it, and nobody's surprised. But here mother sees him from the side and Tom raises his eyebrow and Uncle Justus pulls himself together and almost jumps like the Krögers always do and Pfiffi Buddenbrook looks at her mother or Friederike or Henriette and then I feel so ashamed , that I would like to run out of the room, and I can't imagine marrying him..." "Oh, Tonychen! You're supposed to be living with him in Munich, too." "You're right, Ida.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  1 And I, lighter than by the other passages, went on so that without any toil I was following the fleet spirits upward, when Virgil began: “Love, kindled by virtue, hath ever kindled other love, if but its flame were shown forth: wherefore from that hour when Juvenal, 2 who made thy affection manifest to me, descended among us in the limbo of Hell my good will towards thee hath been such as never yet did bind to an unseen person, so that now these stairs will seem short to me. But tell me, and as a friend forgive me if too great confidence slacken my rein, and talk with me now as with a friend: how could avarice find place in thy breast, amid so much wisdom as by thy diligence thou wast filled with?” These words first moved Statius a little to laughter; then he answered: “Every word of thine is a precious token of love to me. Truly many times things appear that give false matter for doubting, because of the true reasons which are hidden. Thy question proves to me thy belief to be, that I was avaricious in the other life, perchance because of that circle where I was. Now know that avarice was too far parted from me, and this excess thousands of moons have punished; and were it not that I set straight my inclination, when I gave heed to the lines where thou exclaimest, angered as ’twere against human nature: ‘Wherefore dost thou not regulate the lust of mortals, O hallowed hunger of gold?’—at the rolling I should feel the grievous jousts. 3 Then I perceived that our hands could open their wings too wide in spending, and I repented of that as well as of other sins. How many will rise again with shorn locks, 4 through ignorance, which taketh away repentance of this sin during life and at the last hour! And know that the offence which repels any sin by its direct opposite, here, together with it, dries up its luxuriance. 5 Therefore if I, to purge me, have been among that people who bewail avarice, this hath befallen me because of its contrary.” “Now when thou didst sing of the savage strife of Jocasta’s twofold sorrow,” said the singer of the Bucolic lays, “by that which Clio touches with thee there, it seems not that faith had yet made thee faithful, without which good works are not enough. 6 If this be so, what sun or what candles dispelled the darkness for thee, so that thou didst thereafter set thy sails to follow the Fisherman?” 7 And he to him: “Thou first didst send me towards Parnassus to drink in its caves, and then didst light me on to God.

• From Girl Crush: Women's Erotic Fantasies

  Her pussy clasped him, clenching around his hard pole, and the tightness and welling of sensation deep within told her she’d be coming again. She didn’t know if he could come like this, and she wanted to wait for him, but as he thrust even harder, she knew, with a sense of helpless fatality, she couldn’t wait. He had her that much out of control. As she spasmed around him, she saw Donnie, his face contorted and red with effort, muscles rigid. When he collapsed on top of her, sliding over her in the sheen of their combined sweat, she realized from his breathing that yes, he’d come. Donnie was too much of a gentleman to crush her, though she could have stayed forever in his arms. He rolled away, swooping back to kiss her, one of his hard, probing, drowning kisses, the sort that had made her fall for him in the first place. There was an ease in his eyes that had been absent before their lovemaking. “You knew,” he said, simply. “I guessed. Did I do it right?” He laughed, a deep, tender chuckle. “Honey, there is no wrong way.” He hesitated. “But you’re not into men like me.” “Honey, I’m into you .” “I was afraid…” he began, but she silenced him with a kiss. She knew what he was going to say and it didn’t matter, not now, not now that they were lovers. “I bought breakfast food,” she said, suddenly shy. “That is, unless you want to go out for breakfast, or unless I’m presuming too much?” He propped himself up on one arm and smiled down at her. “Presume all you want to. You have no idea…” “Oh, but I think I have.”

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

  My Jesus, Thy Soul was once sorrowful even unto death: now it is without sorrow, where sorrow cannot be. As Thy great prophet has told us, because it has laboured it is saturated with joy. To-day is for evermore the day of the gladness of Thy Heart. Thy Soul is the most beautiful soul that God has ever made; and it is the strongest soul. He has given Thee wisdom to judge Thy people. He has filled Thee with the fulness of grace. As the Godhead dwells bodily in Thee, giving Thy Soul the holiness of the hypostatic union, so, that Thou mayest be truly man, Thy Soul has a created holiness by the sanctification of the Holy Ghost. I adore the love with which Thy uncreated Spirit loves Thy created Soul. I adore the Holy Ghost dwelling in Thy Soul as His most chosen sanctuary. I adore the Father, and Thyself, the Word, and Thy Holy Spirit, loving Thy Soul, and making in it an abode of peace, which passeth not away. With one act of adoration I adore Thy Godhead, and the Soul which Thou didst assume to a personal union with Thyself. O most glorious Soul of my Saviour: O strongest Soul: O wisest Soul: O most loving Soul. In a few moments, my Jesus, Thy Soul will come to me in the Sacrament of Thy Body and Blood. O, bind me, tie me, fasten me to Thyself, that I may cling to Thee ceaselessly, and never be torn from Thee, nor tear myself from Thee again. O most Holy Soul of God, I draw near to the Table of Heaven in the splendour of Thy light. XXIX About the Blood of Jesus in the second way, that is, as received in the most Holy SacramentB. We have considered in the last two Meditations the priceless preciousness of the Blood of Jesus, as He shed it in the day of the agony of His Heart on the Cross. Now we think of it as it is drunk by the faithful in the Blessed Sacrament; and about this three things have to be thought of: (1) why the Holy Sacrament is given under two species; (2) why the people do not receive the Blood of Jesus under the species of wine as the priests do; (3) what is the benefit of the Blood of Jesus as His people receive it at the Altar. (1) The twofold species of food and drink, that is, of bread and wine, is ordained for three reasons: 1, for the fulfilling of this kingly banquet; 2, for the redemption of our bodies and souls together, and for their nourishment together; 3, to set always before us the memory of the Passion of our Lord in a clearer way.

• From The Fixed Stars: A Memoir (2020)

  That was it. In a single afternoon, legend has it, Joe got the information he needed, metabolized it, and accepted it. Now I think, What the fuck kind of superman does that? Could this be real—that in the mid-seventies, a Catholic could respond to his son’s coming out with not only acceptance but with a desire to be educated, to understand? Almost half a century later, it still reads like myth. Of course it was more complicated: Jerry had a wife and a child, and his coming out would upend their lives. Elaine and Joe did what they could for their daughter-in-law. But they also stood by their son. Jerry joined Dignity, a group of and for gay Catholics, and my grandparents did too. When, several years later, Jerry learned that he had HIV, he asked them to speak at schools about preventing HIV/AIDS. I remember a blurry VHS video of my grandparents in front of a classroom—Joe in brown corduroys and Elaine with her calf-length, elastic-waist denim skirt and a charm bracelet jingling at her wrist—talking to high school kids about their gay son. In my grandmother’s files, I found an interview they gave in 1990 to the National Catholic Reporter.9 “People sometimes say to me, ‘How wonderful that you treat your homosexual son so well,’” said Elaine. “Well, it’s not wonderful at all. It’s very easy and natural.” When I was a kid, people would sometimes ask if I was adopted. My parents were brunettes, my dad’s hair nearly black. Reddish hair runs on both sides of the family, but my mother always said that I got mine from Jerry. She says I have his nose too, and his freckles. My legs are long like his, the same shape as his, and I walk like he did. When he was already sick, we posed for a picture in the driveway at Know Creek Ranch, nose to identical nose, and you can tell we’re saying cheeeeeeese. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] My cousins and I were once playing at Jerry’s house, hiding from the grown-ups, when we found a book about sex for gay men. It was on the shelf above the bed Jerry shared with his partner, Tom, and as soon as we opened it, I knew we shouldn’t have. We stared for a minute, maybe not even a minute, before we shoved it back onto the shelf. But my brain held on to those images like I’d studied them for hours. I was probably nine years old, but I can still see them, black-and-whites of tall, hairy men in assorted positions, looking very pleased to be there. I wanted to see more. The feeling scared me, because I hadn’t felt it before and because I knew those pictures were not for me. But even as my face burned, I wanted to keep looking.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  From the one I noted of most beauty, I saw issue a so blissful flame it left none there of greater brightness; and thrice round Beatrice did it sweep with so divine a song, my fantasy repeateth it not to me; wherefore my pen leapeth, and I write it not; for such folds our imagination, not only our speech, is too vivid colouring. 3 “O holy sister mine, who thus dost pray to us devoutly, by thy glowing love, thou dost unloosen me from this fair sphere.” The breath that thus discoursed, as I have written down, was turned unto my Lady by that blessed flame so soon as it had stayed. And she: “O light eternal of that great man to whom our Lord gave up the keys he brought down of this wondrous joy, test this man here on the points both light and grave, as it doth please thee, anent the faith whereby thou once didst walk upon the sea. Whether he loveth well and well hopeth and believeth is not hidden from thee, for thou hast thy vision there where everything is seen depicted. But since this realm hath made its citizens by the true faith, ’tis well that, for the glorifying of it, it should chance him to speak thereof.” Even as the bachelor armeth himself and speaketh not until the master setteth forth the question, to sanction it, but not determine it: 4 so did I arm myself with every reason whilst she was speaking, that I might be ready for such examiner and such profession. “Good Christian, speak, and manifest thyself; what thing is faith?” Whereat I lifted up my brow upon that light whence breathed forth this word; then turned me to Beatrice, and she made eager indication to me that I should pour the water forth from my inward fountain.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  1 Wherefore as does a man who halts not, but goes on his way whatever may appear to him, if the spur of necessity prick him, so we entered by the gap, one in front of the other, mounting the stairway, which by its straitness parts the climbers. And like the little stork that lifts its wing through desire to fly, and, venturing not to abandon the nest, drops it down, 2 even so was I with desire to ask kindled and quenched, going so far as the movement which he makes who is preparing to speak. My sweet Father did not cease, even though the pace was swift, but said: “Discharge the bow of thy speech which thou hast drawn to the iron.” Then securely I opened my mouth, and began: “How can one grow lean there where the need of food is not felt?” “If thou wouldst call to mind how Meleager 3 was consumed at the consuming of a firebrand,” said he, “this would not be so difficult to thee; and if thou wouldst think how, to your every movement your image flits about in the mirror, that which seems hard would seem easy to thee. But in order that thou mayst find rest in thy desire, lo here Statius, and him I call and pray, that he now be the healer of thy wounds.” “If,” answered Statius, “I unfold to him in thy presence the eternal things he has seen, let my excuse be that I may not deny thee.” Then he began: “Son, if thy mind heed and receive my words, they shall be a light unto thee on the how which thou utterest. Perfect blood, which never is drunk by the thirsty veins, and is left behind, 4 as ’twere food which thou removest from the table, acquires in the heart a virtue potent to inform all human members, like that blood which flows through the veins to become those. Refined yet again, it descends there whereof to be silent is more seemly than to speak, and thence afterwards distils upon other’s blood, in natural vessel. There the one is mingled with the other; one designed to be passive, the other to be active, by reason of the perfect place whence it springs; and, joined thereto, it begins to operate, first coagulating, and then giving life to that which it had solidified for its own material. The active virtue having become a soul, like that of a plant, 5 in so far different that the former is on the way, and the latter is already at the goal, then effects so much that now it moves and feels, like a sea-fungus; 5 and then sets about developing organs for the powers whereof it is the germ.

• From Models for Writers: Short Essays for Composition (2018)

  It’s not surprising, then, that many sociologists believe we are a nation of substance abusers — drinkers, smokers, overeaters, and pill poppers. Although the statistics are alarming, they do not begin to suggest the heavy toll of substance abuse on Americans and their families. Loved ones die, relationships are fractured, children are abandoned, job productivity falters, and the dreams of young people are extinguished. –Alfred Rosa and Paul Eschholz [image "Text is shown." file=Image00068.jpg] Photographs have let me know my parents before I was born,as the carefree college students they were, in love and awaiting the rest of their lives. I have seen the light blue Volkswagen van my dad used to take surfing down the coast of California and the silver dress my mom wore to her senior prom. Through pictures I was able to witness their wedding, which showed me that there is much in their relationship that goes beyond their children. I saw the look in their eyes as they held their first, newborn daughter, as well as the jealous expressions of my sister when I was born a few years later. There is something almost magical about viewing images of yourself and your family that you were too young to remember. –Carrie White, student. Many writers find it helpful to think of the paragraph as a very small, compact essay. Here is a paragraph from Martin Luther King Jr.’s essay “The Ways of Meeting Oppression” (p. 425 ). Violence as a way of achieving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. It is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everybody blind. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding; it seeks to annihilate rather than to convert. Violence is immoral because it thrives on hatred rather than love. It destroys community and makes brotherhood impossible. It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue. Violence ends by defeating itself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutality in the destroyers. A voice echoes through time saying to every potential Peter, “Put up your sword.” History is cluttered with the wreckage of nations that failed to follow this command. This paragraph, like all well-written paragraphs, has several distinguishing characteristics: It is unified in that every sentence and every idea relates to the main idea, stated in the italicized topic sentence.It is coherent in that the sentences and ideas are arranged logically, and the relationships among them are made clear by the use of effective transitions.Finally, it is adequately developed in that it presents a short but persuasive argument supporting its main idea.How much development is “adequate” development? The answer depends on many things — how complicated or controversial the main idea is, what readers already know and believe, how much space the writer is permitted. Nearly everyone agrees that the Earth circles around the sun; a single sentence would be enough to make that point.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  In Paris …” Vix cut her off. “Everything’s in bloom.” Caitlin laughed. “It’s so good to see you! I miss you every single day of my life.” Vix had been a wreck, charged with nervous anticipation all day, like a child expecting the return of a long-lost parent. If Caitlin felt Vix’s cold shoulder, punishment for having abandoned her in the first place, she didn’t show it. “I have so much to tell you,” she said, “but it will have to wait until after the party. You’ll spend the night, won’t you?” “I didn’t bring …” “Never mind. I’ll give you a toothbrush. Do you still gag?” “Only if I stick it down my throat.” “I wasn’t talking about toothbrushes.” “I was.” Caitlin grabbed Vix’s arm and led her through the crowd already gathered inside the house. “Fifty guests for fifty years. Is that cute or what? Sharkey’s here and Daniel but I don’t think Gus made it. What do you think of my hair? I hate it. I’m letting it grow. Lamb doesn’t look fifty, does he?” Vix began to melt. All through the buffet supper Caitlin clung to her. “I need you tonight. Don’t desert me. This is so hard.” “What is?” “Being here. I feel like everyone’s judging me.” Vix couldn’t imagine who might be judging her or why Caitlin would suddenly care. SharkeyHE’S JET-LAGGED . Feels like shit. Took the red-eye from L.A. where the big guys at Cal Tech tried to convince him to do his graduate work. But M.I.T.’s after him, too. He’s going to meet with them on Monday. Until then he’s not going to make his decision. Abby’s asked him to make a toast to Lamb. Something short, she said. Something humorous. He’s promised to try. He’s been rehearsing it in his mind. He hates the idea of standing up in front of all those people. When the time comes he raises his glass of champagne. To Lamb … he says, a father who knows when to leave well enough alone . The crowd grows quiet, like he’s said something disrespectful when he meant to convey how lucky he feels that Lamb never pushed, that Lamb accepted him as he was, as he is. He was just trying to thank him, that’s all. So how come they’re all looking at him like that? Before he has the chance to figure it out Lamb is at his side, his arm around his shoulders. Thanks, Shark , he says. No father could ask for a better son! Then it’s Caitlin’s turn and every guy in the room is drooling. And she’s smiling at all of them, letting them think it’s a possibility. To Lamb … she says, the best man I’ve ever known. And I’ve known more than my share . DanielAT LEAST he stands up and makes a proper toast, which is more than he can say for the bitch .

• From My People (2022)

  My grandfather was a presiding elder, who traveled South Carolina preaching and teaching preachers. Both of my grandmothers were saints who lived the church’s teachings. My mother, Althea, who joined the AME Church after marrying my father, was also very spiritual and saw to it that I learned from those teachers, as well as her. I was born in South Carolina in a town called Due West, a ways from Charleston. But we didn’t live there long. My father was then an army chaplain and stationed in Riverside, California. So we soon left Due West so he could get to know his new baby girl. My mother traveled not only with the fat, little, hairless infant that I was; she traveled with the values embraced by the black people of Due West and the African Methodist Episcopal Church. These values helped African Americans keep on keepin’ on, despite the fact that the society around them every day and in every way tried to hold them down and enforce white superiority through Jim Crow laws and attitudes. And while my father was serving his country, even in an army that segregated him and all those who looked like him, he wore the armor of values forged in the AME Church. This armor enabled him to tend the black soldiers dying in his arms on the bloody battlefields of World War II and Korea, fighting for a country that didn’t recognize them as full citizens. Yet they were able to give their lives, if necessary, because they understood better than those who segregated them the American promise of freedom and justice for all. And that enabled the ones who didn’t die on the battlefield to return home and continue the fight for their rights at home. They were guided, as they were on the battlefield, by the values in their head, heart, and history. It was those same values that my father and my mother and my grandparents and members of my segregated community used to create my suit of armor. They were values that spoke to the notion that all God’s children were equal in his sight (though as I grew older, I wondered about that pronoun but dared not do so out loud in the AME Church). They were values, principles by which we were taught how to live as good citizens, even as the larger society refused to recognize us as such. What the AME Church and its black families did was to give black children like me a first-class sense of ourselves. Early on, as I read that the massacre took place in an AME church during a Bible study session, I was transported back to St. Augustine, Florida, and many other locations in that state where my grandfather had been stationed, where my mother used to send me when I was a little girl to get further steeped in these values and to be outfitted in more layers of moral armor.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Giannotto, for his part, was filled with amazement, for he could remember having seen her on many previous occasions in that same castle without ever having recognized her. Nevertheless, he now knew instinctively that she was his mother, and, bursting into tears and reproaching himself for his former indifference, he received her in his arms and kissed her with tenderness. Shortly afterwards, with the loving assistance of Spina and Currado’s lady, who applied cold water and other remedies, Madonna Beritola recovered her senses and embraced her son all over again, weeping copiously and uttering a stream of gentle endearments. And, giving vent to her maternal affection, she kissed him a thousand times or more whilst he held her in his arms and gazed at her in awe and reverence. When the chaste and joyful greetings had been repeated three or four times 9 to the no small pleasure and approval of the onlookers, and mother and son had exchanged the story of their adventures, Giusfredi turned to Currado, who, having already informed his friends about the marriage and received their delighted approval, had given orders for a sumptuous and splendid banquet, and he said: ‘Currado, you have bestowed many favours upon me and you have long sheltered my mother under your roof. But so that we may use your good offices to the full, I now want to ask you to gladden my mother, my wedding-feast and myself by sending for my brother. As I have told you already, he and I were seized by pirates acting for Messer Guasparrino d’Oria, who is detaining him in his house in the role of a servant. And I would also like you to send somebody to Sicily who can bring us a clear picture of conditions there, and tell us whether my father, Arrighetto, is alive or dead, and whether, if he is alive, he is in good health.’ Giusfredi’s request was well received by Currado, who immediately sent experienced couriers to Genoa and Sicily. The one who went to Genoa called on Messer Guasparrino and earnestly entreated him on Currado’s behalf to send him The Outcast and his nurse, giving him a concise account of what Currado had done for Giusfredi and his mother. ‘It is true,’ said Messer Guasparrino, who was greatly astonished by this tale, ‘that I would do anything in my power to please Currado. And for the past fourteen years, the boy you mention, and his mother, have certainly been under my roof. I will gladly send them to him, but you are to warn him from me not to pay too much attention to the tall stories of Giannotto, who now masquerades, if I understand you aright, under the name of Giusfredi. That young man is much more cunning than Currado seems to realize.’ He said no more, but having attended to the good man’s lodging he secretly sent for the nurse and questioned her closely on the subject.