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 58 of 184 · 20 per page

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Robin missed how he accomplished the feat while in her euphoric postclimax haze, but she was grateful for the result. She lay curled against his side, her legs tangled with his. Her head lay on his chest and her fingertips tracing her name imprinted in his skin. “I was going to fuck you and walk out,” she confessed. “I caught that.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I wouldn’t have let you leave. I would’ve followed you with my junk hanging out if I had to and hauled you back.” She lifted her head. “Like I’d ever let other women get an eyeful of you.” Paul smiled. “I’m all yours, honey. Flaws, baggage, and all.” Her hand stilled and settled over his heart. “You’re not ready, Paul. I wish you were.” “The counselor I’ve been talking to says otherwise.” Robin’s heartbeat skipped. “Counselor?” He nodded. “I’ll need to keep seeing him for a while, but I know enough about what losing Curt did to me to have my head on straight again.” Her heart ached for the tragedy he’d suffered. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to outlive your child. His fingers linked with hers. “I should have talked to someone a lot sooner, most especially after I started seeing you. It wasn’t fair to you that I didn’t.” “You can’t take all the blame,” she said softly. “When we started out, our arrangement was perfect for me, too. No strings, hot sex, and a guy who listened to me ramble on about jewelry. Things were fine until I changed my expectations.” He reached over with his free hand and opened the nightstand drawer. She thought he might be reaching for a condom, and her pulse quickened. Then a dark blue velvet box appeared in her line of vision, and her heart stopped altogether. Paul set the box on his washboard abs and took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to buy an engagement ring for a jewelry designer who’s kicked your ass to the curb?” Unable to help herself, she reached for the box. “Wait,” he said, staying her. “Going back to the list of things I need from you...I need you to marry me, Robin. The next time we leave this room, I want us to come back to it as man and wife. I promise you’ll have the wedding of your dreams, with our friends and family and doves and swans and whatever the hell you want, but I’d really like the vows now—today —and getting married here in Vegas feels like it fits us.” Us. She looked at him with wide eyes, her mind telling her how crazy that was. There were so many courtship steps they were skipping.

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

  Objection 2: Further, the object of love is the good, which communicates itself to others. But zeal is opposed to communication; since it seems an effect of zeal, that a man refuses to share the object of his love with another: thus husbands are said to be jealous of [zelare] their wives, because they will not share them with others. Therefore zeal is not an effect of love. Objection 3: Further, there is no zeal without hatred, as neither is there without love: for it is written (Ps. 72:3): “I had a zeal on occasion of the wicked.” Therefore it should not be set down as an effect of love any more than of hatred. On the contrary, Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv): “God is said to be a zealot, on account of his great love for all things.” I answer that, Zeal, whatever way we take it, arises from the intensity of love. For it is evident that the more intensely a power tends to anything, the more vigorously it withstands opposition or resistance. Since therefore love is “a movement towards the object loved,” as Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 35), an intense love seeks to remove everything that opposes it. But this happens in different ways according to love of concupiscence, and love of friendship. For in love of concupiscence he who desires something intensely, is moved against all that hinders his gaining or quietly enjoying the object of his love. It is thus that husbands are said to be jealous of their wives, lest association with others prove a hindrance to their exclusive individual rights. In like manner those who seek to excel, are moved against those who seem to excel, as though these were a hindrance to their excelling. And this is the zeal of envy, of which it is written (Ps. 36:1): “Be not emulous of evil doers, nor envy [zelaveris] them that work iniquity.” On the other hand, love of friendship seeks the friend’s good: wherefore, when it is intense, it causes a man to be moved against everything that opposes the friend’s good. In this respect, a man is said to be zealous on behalf of his friend, when he makes a point of repelling whatever may be said or done against the friend’s good. In this way, too, a man is said to be zealous on God’s behalf, when he endeavors, to the best of his means, to repel whatever is contrary to the honor or will of God; according to 3 Kings 19:14: “With zeal I have been zealous for the Lord of hosts.” Again on the words of Jn. 2:17: “The zeal of Thy house hath eaten me up,” a gloss says that “a man is eaten up with a good zeal, who strives to remedy whatever evil he perceives; and if he cannot, bears with it and laments it.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  I repressed a whimper. A lubricated finger circled my quivering asshole, preparing it for the slow slide of the cold glass thermometer. “Most patients would have their temperatures taken with a digital ear thermometer,” explained Matthew, pushing it further in, inch by inch, and rotating it slowly inside my bum. “But not you. You’re different, Loveday. You need special treatment. It says so on your notes.” “Does it?” I whispered. “Yes, it does.” He held the thermometer fully in, his thumb and finger resting between my cheeks. “It says, ‘Patient needs firm handling at all times. Facilitate her swift recovery with frequent rectal examinations and strict discipline.’ The consultant seems very sure that this is what you need.” “Stupid consultant,” I whispered, just loud enough to be audible. “What was that?” Matthew withdrew the thermometer in one swift stroke, leaving my sphincter muscles trembling at the unexpected vacation. “I see from my thermometer that you are not too ill for a spanking, young lady. Disrespecting the consultant certainly merits one. In fact, I think he should be here to witness it...but I think he’s on another call. Never mind. You can imagine him here, and I’ll write up a report on your punishment for the notes, just so he knows.” I twisted my ankles and wrists, antsy and tense on my rubber sheet. I both dreaded and longed for the promised spanking, and I worked on my readiness for the first stroke, but instead he picked up the sponge again and wrung it out on my bottom so that the water flowed over the cheeks and down my hips, puddling on the sheet. When his hand fell, I nearly jumped up to my knees. I thought I knew the exact form and feel and weight and shape of his open palm, but this felt quite different, and it stung substantially more than I remembered. “Ha ha,” he chuckled delightedly. “That’s how it feels on a wet bottom. I’ve heard it’s more painful. So it’s true.” He continued to smack at my dripping bottom until it was dry—a long and intensive process throughout which it was impossible not to wriggle and kick and make pathetic squeaking noises. “There,” he said, rubbing the site of his evildoing. “A red, sore bottom is very good at aiding recovery for minxes like you. I think we’ll repeat that prescription thrice daily.” “Thrice?” I moaned. “But it hurts.” “The best medicines are hard to swallow,” lectured Matthew. “Speaking of which...but no. I can’t be sure the infection has cleared up yet. We’ll have to find another way of administering the dose.” “The dose?” I wanted to laugh. That was one way of putting it. If I panted, “Dose me up, doctor,” in the throes of orgasm, would that work for him? “The medicine you need,” he whispered, bending down to my ear. “The medicine you’re going to get.” “Can I ask for a second opinion? Ouch!”

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

  Objection 3: Further, it is written (Prov. 9:1): “Wisdom hath built herself a house.” Now, Christ is Himself the Wisdom of God; according to 1 Cor. 1:24: “Christ the Power of God and the Wisdom of God.” And the house of this Wisdom is Christ’s body, which is also called His temple, according to Jn. 2:21: “But He spoke of the temple of His body.” Therefore it seems that the accomplishment of Christ’s conception should be attributed principally to the Son, and not, therefore, to the Holy Ghost. On the contrary, It is written (Lk. 1:35): “The Holy Ghost shall come upon Thee.” I answer that, The whole Trinity effected the conception of Christ’s body: nevertheless, this is attributed to the Holy Ghost, for three reasons. First, because this is befitting to the cause of the Incarnation, considered on the part of God. For the Holy Ghost is the love of Father and Son, as stated in the [4149]FP, Q[37], A[1]. Now, that the Son of God took to Himself flesh from the Virgin’s womb was due to the exceeding love of God: wherefore it is said (Jn. 3:16): “God so loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son.” Secondly, this is befitting to the cause of the Incarnation, on the part of the nature assumed. Because we are thus given to understand that human nature was assumed by the Son of God into the unity of Person, not by reason of its merits, but through grace alone; which is attributed to the Holy Ghost, according to 1 Cor. 12:4: “There are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit.” Wherefore Augustine says (Enchiridion xl): “The manner in which Christ was born of the Holy Ghost . . . suggests to us the grace of God, whereby man, without any merits going before, in the very beginning of his nature when he began to exist was joined to God the Word, into so great unity of Person, that He Himself should be the Son of God.”

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

  Objection 3: Further, it is written (Prov. 9:1): “Wisdom hath built herself a house.” Now, Christ is Himself the Wisdom of God; according to 1 Cor. 1:24: “Christ the Power of God and the Wisdom of God.” And the house of this Wisdom is Christ’s body, which is also called His temple, according to Jn. 2:21: “But He spoke of the temple of His body.” Therefore it seems that the accomplishment of Christ’s conception should be attributed principally to the Son, and not, therefore, to the Holy Ghost. On the contrary, It is written (Lk. 1:35): “The Holy Ghost shall come upon Thee.” I answer that, The whole Trinity effected the conception of Christ’s body: nevertheless, this is attributed to the Holy Ghost, for three reasons. First, because this is befitting to the cause of the Incarnation, considered on the part of God. For the Holy Ghost is the love of Father and Son, as stated in the [4149]FP, Q[37], A[1]. Now, that the Son of God took to Himself flesh from the Virgin’s womb was due to the exceeding love of God: wherefore it is said (Jn. 3:16): “God so loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son.” Secondly, this is befitting to the cause of the Incarnation, on the part of the nature assumed. Because we are thus given to understand that human nature was assumed by the Son of God into the unity of Person, not by reason of its merits, but through grace alone; which is attributed to the Holy Ghost, according to 1 Cor. 12:4: “There are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit.” Wherefore Augustine says (Enchiridion xl): “The manner in which Christ was born of the Holy Ghost . . . suggests to us the grace of God, whereby man, without any merits going before, in the very beginning of his nature when he began to exist was joined to God the Word, into so great unity of Person, that He Himself should be the Son of God.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “You think same time, same place, two weeks from now is a commitment?” She hated the tinge of bitterness in her voice. He’d never made her promises, never alluded to more than what they had during their Vegas liaisons. It wasn’t fair that she was angry at him for not giving her more, but she couldn’t help how she felt. “That’s not enough for me.” Straightening, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. Her eyes swept hungrily over his torso, admiring the tight lacing of abdominal muscles that flexed as he moved. He was so virile. Truly breathtaking. Tattoos covered both of his arms from shoulder to elbow in gorgeous half-sleeves. His chest was broad, golden, and bare...except for her name, which crossed the pectoral over his heart. “It was never going to be enough.” Robin sucked in a tremulous breath, stunned by the sight of ink that hadn’t been there previously. Her gaze rested on the new tattoo, her vision blurring with tears. “Paul…” “I do love fucking you.” He pulled a fresh condom out of the nightstand drawer and rolled it on. “When I’m not inside you, I’m thinking about it.” Setting his hands on her inner thighs, he pushed into her. She whimpered, her tender pussy tightened by her recent orgasms. “God, you feel good,” he breathed. “I’ve needed you so much.” His size, so long and thick, was perfect. As if he’d been made for her. Pushing onto her elbows, Robin watched his glistening cock pull free. The heavily veined length was as brutal looking as the rest of him. The sight of it turned her on further. It made her feel powerfully feminine, like a freakin’ sex goddess, to incite the raging lust of a man who was so potently masculine and primal in his sexuality. Robin’s tongue traced the curve of her lower lip. “Please,” she whispered, feeling empty without him. She’d been feeling empty since she walked out on him, physically and emotionally. He sank back into her with a low hiss of pleasure. “You’re so sexy, baby. So damn perfect and beautiful. I have no fucking idea what you’re doing with a guy like me, but I’m grateful. Every damn day.” God help her. She loved him so much. He tugged the tie at her waist and pushed the two halves of her dress open. He released the center clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts into his waiting palms. Her pussy tightened around him, echoing the gentle rolling of her nipples between his talented fingers. “I’m so sorry.” He was flushed and shiny with sweat, his beautiful hazel eyes as red as hers felt. “So damn fucking sorry that I ever let you think, for even a moment, that you were nothing but a convenient piece of ass to me. I loved you the moment I saw you. I should have told you—”

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

  Now man is required to offer sacrifice for three reasons. First, for the remission of sin, by which he is turned away from God. Hence the Apostle says (Heb. 5:1) that it appertains to the priest “to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.” Secondly, that man may be preserved in a state of grace, by ever adhering to God, wherein his peace and salvation consist. Wherefore under the old Law the sacrifice of peace-offerings was offered up for the salvation of the offerers, as is prescribed in the third chapter of Leviticus. Thirdly, in order that the spirit of man be perfectly united to God: which will be most perfectly realized in glory. Hence, under the Old Law, the holocaust was offered, so called because the victim was wholly burnt, as we read in the first chapter of Leviticus. Now these effects were conferred on us by the humanity of Christ. For, in the first place, our sins were blotted out, according to Rom. 4:25: “Who was delivered up for our sins.” Secondly, through Him we received the grace of salvation, according to Heb. 5:9: “He became to all that obey Him the cause of eternal salvation.” Thirdly, through Him we have acquired the perfection of glory, according to Heb. 10:19: “We have [Vulg.: ‘Having’] a confidence in the entering into the Holies” (i.e. the heavenly glory) “through His Blood.” Therefore Christ Himself, as man, was not only priest, but also a perfect victim, being at the same time victim for sin, victim for a peace-offering, and a holocaust. Reply to Objection 1: Christ did not slay Himself, but of His own free-will He exposed Himself to death, according to Is. 53:7: “He was offered because it was His own will.” Thus He is said to have offered Himself. Reply to Objection 2: The slaying of the Man Christ may be referred to a twofold will. First, to the will of those who slew Him: and in this respect He was not a victim: for the slayers of Christ are not accounted as offering a sacrifice to God, but as guilty of a great crime: a similitude of which was borne by the wicked sacrifices of the Gentiles, in which they offered up men to idols. Secondly, the slaying of Christ may be considered in reference to the will of the Sufferer, Who freely offered Himself to suffering. In this respect He is a victim, and in this He differs from the sacrifices of the Gentiles. (The reply to the third objection is wanting in the original manuscripts, but it may be gathered from the above.—Ed.) [*Some editions, however, give the following reply:

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

  CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. 32. in 1 Cor.) Yet observe how, almost to the same extent of obedience he requires the performance of each command, For of God he says, with all thy heart. Of our neighbour, as thyself. Which if it were diligently kept, there would be neither slave nor free man, neither conqueror nor conquered, (or rather, neither prince nor subject,) rich nor poor, nor would the devil be even known, for the chaff would rather stand the touch of fire than the devil the fervour of love; so surpassing all things is the constancy of love. GREGORY. (19. Moral. c. 14.) But since it is said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, how is he merciful in taking compassion upon another, who still, by unrighteous living, is unmerciful to himself? CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. When the lawyer had answered the things contained in the law, Christ, to whom all things were known, cuts to pieces his crafty nets. For it follows, And he said to him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. ORIGEN. From these words it is undoubtingly gathered, that the life which is preached according to God the Creator of the world, and the Scriptures given by Him, is life everlasting. For the Lord Himself bears testimony to the passage from Deuteronomy, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; (Deut. 6:5.) and from Leviticus, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. (Lev. 19:18.) But these things were spoken against the followers of Valentinus, Basil, and Marcion. For what else did he wish us to do in seeking eternal life, but what is contained in the Law and the Prophets? 10:29–3729. But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour? 30. And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. 31. And by chance there came down a certain Priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 33. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, 34. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. 36. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Tract. lxxxiii. 1) And what is Christ’s joy in us, but that He deigns to rejoice on our account? And what is our joy, which He says shall be full, but to have fellowship with Him? He had perfect joy on our account, when He rejoiced in foreknowing, and predestinating us; but that joy was not in us, because then we did not exist: it began to be in us, when He called us And this joy we rightly call our own, this joy wherewith we shall be blessed; which is begun in the faith of them who are born again, and shall be fulfilled in the reward of them who rise again. 15:12–1612. This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. 13. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. 14. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you. 15. Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you. 16. Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you. THEOPHYLACT. Having said, If ye keep My commandments, ye shall abide in My love, He shews what commandments they are to keep: This is My commandment, That ye love one another. GREGORY. (Hom. xxvii. in Evang.) But when all our Lord’s sacred discourses are full of His commandments, why does He give this special commandment respecting love, if it is not that every commandment teaches love, and all precepts are one? Love and love only is the fulfilment of every thing that is enjoined. As all the boughs of a tree proceed from one root, so all the virtues are produced from one love: nor hath the branch, i. e. the good work, any life, except it abide in the root of love. AUGUSTINE. (Tract. lxxxiii. 3) Where then love is, what can be wanting? where it is not, what can profit? But this love is distinguished from men’s love to each other as men, by adding, As I have loved you. To what end did Christ love us, but that we should reign with Him? Let us therefore so love one another, as that our love be different from that of other men; who do not love one another, to the end that God may be loved, because they do not really love at all. They who love one another for the sake of having God within them, they truly love one another.

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

  Reply to Objection 1: Christ received a command from the Father to suffer. For it is written (Jn. 10:18): “I have power to lay down My life, and I have power to take it up again: (and) this commandment have I received of My Father”—namely, of laying down His life and of resuming it again. “From which,” as Chrysostom says (Hom. lix in Joan.), it is not to be understood “that at first He awaited the command, and that He had need to be told, but He showed the proceeding to be a voluntary one, and destroyed suspicion of opposition” to the Father. Yet because the Old Law was ended by Christ’s death, according to His dying words, “It is consummated” (Jn. 19:30), it may be understood that by His suffering He fulfilled all the precepts of the Old Law. He fulfilled those of the moral order which are founded on the precepts of charity, inasmuch as He suffered both out of love of the Father, according to Jn. 14:31: “That the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father hath given Me commandment, so do I: arise, let us go hence”—namely, to the place of His Passion: and out of love of His neighbor, according to Gal. 2:20: “He loved me, and delivered Himself up for me.” Christ likewise by His Passion fulfilled the ceremonial precepts of the Law, which are chiefly ordained for sacrifices and oblations, in so far as all the ancient sacrifices were figures of that true sacrifice which the dying Christ offered for us. Hence it is written (Col. 2:16,17): “Let no man judge you in meat or drink, or in respect of a festival day, or of the new moon, or of the sabbaths, which are a shadow of things to come, but the body is Christ’s,” for the reason that Christ is compared to them as a body is to a shadow. Christ also by His Passion fulfilled the judicial precepts of the Law, which are chiefly ordained for making compensation to them who have suffered wrong, since, as is written Ps. 68:5: He “paid that which” He “took not away,” suffering Himself to be fastened to a tree on account of the apple which man had plucked from the tree against God’s command. Reply to Objection 2: Although obedience implies necessity with regard to the thing commanded, nevertheless it implies free-will with regard to the fulfilling of the precept. And, indeed, such was Christ’s obedience, for, although His Passion and death, considered in themselves, were repugnant to the natural will, yet Christ resolved to fulfill God’s will with respect to the same, according to Ps. 39:9: “That I should do Thy will: O my God, I have desired it.” Hence He said (Mat. 26:42): “If this chalice may not pass away, but I must drink it, Thy will be done.”

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  “One time,” I told her, “it was the first night I found one of our bars, that’s the night I met Al.” Edna nodded. “You were a friend of Al’s?” she said. A misty look clouded her eyes. “You knew Al?” I asked her. I meant knew in the biblical sense. She understood the question. “This is a small world,” she answered. “This circle of people stays pretty much the same.” She touched my arm. “Whatever you do now, make sure you can live with it for the rest of your life.” I knew Id better give that a lot of thought. “Anyway,” she said, “I interrupted you.” I leaned forward. “When I first laid eyes on Al, 104 = Leslie Feinberg it was like love at first sight, you know?” Edna’s face softened. “T mean, there’s different kinds of love,’ I said. “T can’t explain how it feels to me, but it’s love. That’s how I felt tonight when I saw Rocco.” Edna touched my face with her fingertips. “The more I get to know you,” she said, “the more I like you.” She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. I blushed from head to toe. Edna smiled. “T’ve got to go home and sleep,” Edna told me. “Do you want a ride?” I shook my head. “T think ’'m gonna stay for a while, thanks.” After Edna left, I replayed the whole night in my mind, over and over again. “Scabs!” we all screamed as the cops tried to help them cross our lines and take our jobs away. Hundreds of us strained at the barricades, and the cops held the scabs back. “Faggots!” some of our guys yelled at the strikebreakers. All the butches pulled back from the police barricades. The word seared like burning metal. “Duffy,” I pulled his arm. “What’s this faggot shit?” Duffy appeared torn in ten directions. “Alright,” he said. “Listen up you guys. Stop with the faggot stuff. They’re scabs.” The men looked confused. A light bulb lit up over Walter’s head. “Aw, shit.” He extended his hand to me. “We didn’t mean you 9 euys. I shook his hand. “Listen,” I said, “call them whatever you want, but don’t call them faggots.” Walter nodded. “Agreed.” “You cocksuckers! You motherfuckers!” they shouted instead. I pushed forward at the barricade. “You fucking scabs,” I yelled. “You all have sex with other men.” The guys looked baffled. “What’s she talking about?” Sammy wanted to know. “You have intercourse with your own mother,” I screamed. “That’s disgusting,” Walter said. Duffy intervened. “OK, they’re scabs and strikebreakers. Let’s call °em what they are, alright?” Duffy glared at me, but there was a smile underneath it, Grant pulled me aside and motioned towards Duffy. “You know that guy’s a communist?” I was stunned. “He is not,” I told her. “Oh yeah?” she asked me. “How do you know?” Jan looked worried. “Is that true?”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He turned, his arm moving to the back of the seat as he looked directly at me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly. “I’ve waited for you for years. I can wait longer if you need me to.” For a moment, I wondered if he’d changed his mind. The hours we’d spent talking online just weren’t the same as being together in person. But his hand was shaking, ever so slightly, and his voice wasn’t completely steady. I wasn’t the only one nervous as hell here. I licked my lips and turned to lean against the door, letting my Wonderbra do its cleavage magic as I stretched my leg just enough to open my thighs beneath the clinging silk of my skirt. I was so wet I half-expected he could smell me. “Don’t you want me?” His pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring as his eyes flicked quickly to my breasts, lingered, then slid purposefully down and back up my body. He threw his head back against the seat and laughed. “Christ, woman! I want you so badly I’m about to come in my pants.” His voice came out hoarse in the quiet of the car. “Do you want me?” Yes. The answer was yes. I kept my eyes on his, knowing at that moment, I was going to let him see my lingerie. “I’m wearing crotchless panties. Just in case.” I couldn’t stop the flush heating my face. “Not that I expected you to ever know that.” He closed his eyes and groaned, his knuckles white as he took deep, bracing breaths. When he finally looked at me, his eyes smoldered. He smiled crookedly. “After all this time, it would be really embarrassing to come before we got our clothes off.” “Drive!” I laughed. He drove. My cell vibrated. Melissa. I turned it off. Eric’s cell vibrated. He pulled it out, grimacing as it slipped from his fingers and onto the seat beside me. “Would you please turn that fucking thing off!” I glanced at the Caller ID as I pressed the button. “J C Home?” “Janelle and Chris. And that would be Janelle. Chris would not be calling me now!” I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Does the whole world know we’re going out tonight?” “Yes, dammit!” He looked at me, both of us sobering at the same time. “I’m sorry if that bothers you. God, I hope it doesn’t! I’ve been in love with you for so long. I feel like some gawky-assed teenager tripping over his words.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he realized what he’d said. “Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that yet. The L-word, I mean. But it’s true, dammit, and I won’t take it back. I love you. I want to marry you. And I’m making a total fucking mess of this conversation!” He slammed his hand against the wheel. “Fuck!” We were pulling into the hotel.

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

  But if we speak of man’s last end, as to the attainment or possession thereof, or as to any use whatever of the thing itself desired as an end, thus does something of man, in respect of his soul, belong to his last end: since man attains happiness through his soul. Therefore the thing itself which is desired as end, is that which constitutes happiness, and makes man happy; but the attainment of this thing is called happiness. Consequently we must say that happiness is something belonging to the soul; but that which constitutes happiness is something outside the soul. Reply to Objection 1: Inasmuch as this division includes all goods that man can desire, thus the good of the soul is not only power, habit, or act, but also the object of these, which is something outside. And in this way nothing hinders us from saying that what constitutes happiness is a good of the soul. Reply to Objection 2: As far as the proposed objection is concerned, happiness is loved above all, as the good desired; whereas a friend is loved as that for which good is desired; and thus, too, man loves himself. Consequently it is not the same kind of love in both cases. As to whether man loves anything more than himself with the love of friendship there will be occasion to inquire when we treat of Charity. Reply to Objection 3: Happiness, itself, since it is a perfection of the soul, is an inherent good of the soul; but that which constitutes happiness, viz. which makes man happy, is something outside his soul, as stated above. Whether any created good constitutes man’s happiness?Objection 1: It would seem that some created good constitutes man’s happiness. For Dionysius says (Div. Nom. vii) that Divine wisdom “unites the ends of first things to the beginnings of second things,” from which we may gather that the summit of a lower nature touches the base of the higher nature. But man’s highest good is happiness. Since then the angel is above man in the order of nature, as stated in [1001]FP, Q[111], A[1], it seems that man’s happiness consists in man somehow reaching the angel. Objection 2: Further, the last end of each thing is that which, in relation to it, is perfect: hence the part is for the whole, as for its end. But the universe of creatures which is called the macrocosm, is compared to man who is called the microcosm (Phys. viii, 2), as perfect to imperfect. Therefore man’s happiness consists in the whole universe of creatures. Objection 3: Further, man is made happy by that which lulls his natural desire. But man’s natural desire does not reach out to a good surpassing his capacity. Since then man’s capacity does not include that good which surpasses the limits of all creation, it seems that man can be made happy by some created good. Consequently some created good constitutes man’s happiness.

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  I celebrated my birthday with my dad every year, and we spent Christmas with him as well. I loved Christmas with my dad because my dad celebrated European Christmas. European Christmas was the best Christmas ever. My dad went all out. He had Christmas lights and a Christmas tree. He had fake snow and snow globes and stockings hung by the fireplace and lots of wrapped presents from Santa Claus. African Christmas was a lot more practical. We’d go to church, come home, have a nice meal with good meat and lots of custard and jelly. But there was no tree. You’d get a present, but it was usually just clothes, a new outfit. You might get a toy, but it wasn’t wrapped and it was never from Santa Claus. The whole issue of Santa Claus is a rather contentious one when it comes to African Christmas, a matter of pride. When an African dad buys his kid a present, the last thing he’s going to do is give some fat white man credit for it. African Dad will tell you straight up, “No, no, no. I bought you that.” Outside of birthdays and special occasions, all we had were our Sunday afternoons. He would cook for me. He’d ask me what I wanted, and I’d always request the exact same meal, a German dish called Rösti, which is basically a pancake made out of potatoes and some sort of meat with a gravy. I’d have that and a bottle of Sprite, and for dessert a plastic container of custard with caramel on top. A good chunk of those afternoons would pass in silence. My dad didn’t talk much. He was caring and devoted, attentive to detail, always a card on my birthday, always my favorite food and toys when I came for a visit. But at the same time he was a closed book. We’d talk about the food he was making, talk about the F1 racing we’d watched. Every now and then he’d drop a tidbit of information, about a place he’d visited or his steakhouse. But that was it. Being with my dad was like watching a web series. I’d get a few minutes of information a few minutes at a time, then I’d have to wait a week for the next installment. —

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  Then they decided to go after him by imposing additional and arbitrary restrictions. “Since you’ve got the license you can keep the restaurant open,” they said, “but you’ll need to have separate toilets for every racial category. You’ll need white toilets, black toilets, colored toilets, and Indian toilets.” “But then it will be a whole restaurant of nothing but toilets.” “Well, if you don’t want to do that, your other option is to make it a normal restaurant and only serve whites.” He closed the restaurant. After apartheid fell, my father moved from Hillbrow to Yeoville, a formerly quiet, residential neighborhood that had transformed into this vibrant melting pot of black and white and every other hue. Immigrants were pouring in from Nigeria and Ghana and all over the continent, bringing different food and exciting music. Rockey Street was the main strip, and its sidewalks were filled with street vendors and restaurants and bars. It was an explosion of culture. My dad lived two blocks over from Rockey, on Yeo Street, right next to this incredible park where I loved to go because kids of all races and different countries were running around and playing there. My dad’s house was simple. Nice, but nothing fancy. I feel like my dad had enough money to be comfortable and travel, but he never spent lavishly on things. He’s extremely frugal, the kind of guy who drives the same car for twenty years. My father and I lived on a schedule. I visited him every Sunday afternoon. Even though apartheid had ended, my mom had made her decision: She didn’t want to get married. So we had our house, and he had his. I’d made a deal with my mom that if I went with her to mixed church and white church in the morning, after that I’d get to skip black church and go to my dad’s, where we’d watch Formula 1 racing instead of casting out demons. I celebrated my birthday with my dad every year, and we spent Christmas with him as well. I loved Christmas with my dad because my dad celebrated European Christmas. European Christmas was the best Christmas ever. My dad went all out. He had Christmas lights and a Christmas tree. He had fake snow and snow globes and stockings hung by the fireplace and lots of wrapped presents from Santa Claus. African Christmas was a lot more practical. We’d go to church, come home, have a nice meal with good meat and lots of custard and jelly. But there was no tree. You’d get a present, but it was usually just clothes, a new outfit. You might get a toy, but it wasn’t wrapped and it was never from Santa Claus.

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

  Objection 2: Further, the weaker is overcome by the stronger. But love is overcome by hatred: when, that is to say, love is turned into hatred. Therefore hatred is stronger than love. Objection 3: Further, the emotions of the soul are shown by their effects. But man insists more on repelling what is hateful, than on seeking what is pleasant: thus also irrational animals refrain from pleasure for fear of the whip, as Augustine instances (QQ. 83, qu. 36). Therefore hatred is stronger than love. On the contrary, Good is stronger than evil; because “evil does nothing except in virtue of good,” as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv). But hatred and love differ according to the difference of good and evil. Therefore love is stronger than hatred. I answer that, It is impossible for an effect to be stronger than its cause. Now every hatred arises from some love as its cause, as above stated [1250](A[2]). Therefore it is impossible for hatred to be stronger than love absolutely. But furthermore, love must needs be, absolutely speaking, stronger than hatred. Because a thing is moved to the end more strongly than to the means. Now turning away from evil is directed as a means to the gaining of good. Wherefore, absolutely speaking, the soul’s movement in respect of good is stronger than its movement in respect of evil. Nevertheless hatred sometimes seems to be stronger than love, for two reasons. First, because hatred is more keenly felt than love. For, since the sensitive perception is accompanied by a certain impression; when once the impression has been received it is not felt so keenly as in the moment of receiving it. Hence the heat of a hectic fever, though greater, is nevertheless not felt so much as the heat of tertian fever; because the heat of the hectic fever is habitual and like a second nature. For this reason, love is felt more keenly in the absence of the object loved; thus Augustine says (De Trin. x, 12) that “love is felt more keenly when we lack what we love.” And for the same reason, the unbecomingness of that which is hated is felt more keenly than the becomingness of that which is loved. Secondly, because comparison is made between a hatred and a love which are not mutually corresponding. Because, according to different degrees of good there are different degrees of love to which correspond different degrees of hatred. Wherefore a hatred that corresponds to a greater love, moves us more than a lesser love. Hence it is clear how to reply to the First Objection. For the love of pleasure is less than the love of self-preservation, to which corresponds flight from pain. Wherefore we flee from pain more than we love pleasure.

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

  Objection 2: Further, the appetite is a principle of movement and action in all animals, as stated in De Anima iii, 10. If, therefore, whatever a man does is done from love, the other passions of the appetitive faculty are superfluous. Objection 3: Further, nothing is produced at one and the same time by contrary causes. But some things are done from hatred. Therefore all things are not done from love. On the contrary, Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that “all things, whatever they do, they do for the love of good.” I answer that, Every agent acts for an end, as stated above ([1243]Q[1], A[2] ). Now the end is the good desired and loved by each one. Wherefore it is evident that every agent, whatever it be, does every action from love of some kind. Reply to Objection 1: This objection takes love as a passion existing in the sensitive appetite. But here we are speaking of love in a general sense, inasmuch as it includes intellectual, rational, animal, and natural love: for it is in this sense that Dionysius speaks of love in chapter iv of De Divinis Nominibus. Reply to Objection 2: As stated above [1244](A[5]; Q[27], A[4]) desire, sadness and pleasure, and consequently all the other passions of the soul, result from love. Wherefore every act proceeds from any passion, proceeds also from love as from a first cause: and so the other passions, which are proximate causes, are not superfluous. Reply to Objection 3: Hatred also is a result of love, as we shall state further on ([1245]Q[29], A[2]). OF HATRED (SIX ARTICLES)We must now consider hatred: concerning which there are six points of inquiry: (1) Whether evil is the cause and the object of hatred? (2) Whether love is the cause of hatred? (3) Whether hatred is stronger than love? (4) Whether a man can hate himself? (5) Whether a man can hate the truth? (6) Whether a thing can be the object of universal hatred? Whether evil is the cause and object of hatred?Objection 1: It would seem that evil is not the object and cause of hatred. For everything that exists, as such, is good. If therefore evil be the object of hatred, it follows that nothing but the lack of something can be the object of hatred: which is clearly untrue. Objection 2: Further, hatred of evil is praise-worthy; hence (2 Macc 3:1) some are praised for that “the laws were very well kept, because of the godliness of Onias the high-priest, and the hatred of their souls [Douay: ‘his soul’] had no evil.” If, therefore, nothing but evil be the object of hatred, it would follow that all hatred is commendable: and this is clearly false. Objection 3: Further, the same thing is not at the same time both good and evil. But the same thing is lovable and hateful to different subjects. Therefore hatred is not only of evil, but also of good.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  Without a word I took off my brown leather jacket and offered it to her. Neither of us were in any hurry. Once this dance began there was no reason to rush and every reason to take it deliciously slow. I helped her on with my jacket. I think I fell in love with her the moment she swung her leg over the bike and settled in behind me. The way two women relate on a motorcycle is part of their sex together—and she was very, very good on a bike. I didn’t realize until she waved as we roared off that all her friends were watching us from the restaurant window, smiling those sweet, secret kind of smiles at her. From that moment on I was her butch and she was my femme. Everybody knew it. So did we. We just fit and the sparks flew. We were both a couple of tough cookies, and together we felt unbeatable. It wasn’t just bravado. We matched each other in nerve. For a stone butch and a stone pro to survive, they have to tough it out with the world. We walked out talk and we appreciated it in each other. Slow 114 Leslie Feinberg dancing at dawn, making fierce love, leaning together as one with the motorcycle into a deep curve—it just got better and better. One morning Milli didn’t come to the Malibou after work as usual. Neither did Darlene or her friends. All of us were worried. Darlene finally pulled up in a car. Milli was bleeding in the back seat. Her face was all busted up. I got in and held her head on my lap. We had to take her to a goddamn veterinarian to get her arm set in a cast. We were afraid emergency room staff might have called the cops. It was an off-duty cop who beat her. It took Milli a long, long time to get her confidence back. It changed her. Every beating changes you. I got a day-shift job at a plastic pipe factory. Milli worked as a temp at a bindery. Everything was OK, it was just different. Then I got pink-slipped and Milli told me casually that she was thinking of going back to dancing in the clubs to get us through. “No, no, no, no, no!” I thought that made my position perfectly clear. But the way Milli was coming around the kitchen table after me in response made me retreat. She backed me up against the sink and came right up under my nose. “Nobody,” she sputtered in rage, “nobody tells me how to run my life, not you, not anybody. You got that?” I conceded she had a point. “And when did you get so goddamn morally righteous all of a sudden?” She paced around the kitchen. “Puck you,” I yelled. She knew it wasn’t true. “You just said that to hurt me.” She conceded I had a point.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I began to realize how emotionally wounded I was, how damaged. But Theresa could always sense when I was about to petrify like stone. She could see it coming by the way I held my body as I walked in the door. She could hear it building up in the stories of life’s daily abuses—on the job, at the corner store, on the street. Those were the times she would tell me stories in bed—wonderful, sensuous, tactile fantasies about how your body feels when you're lying on sand in the sun and the ocean’s waves are lapping near your toes. Or climbing worn wooden stairs to visit a quaint sunlit room where a lover awaits. The stories were relaxation therapy and sexual fantasy combined, meant to simultaneously calm and arouse me. They did both. Theresa could always melt my stone. It was 1968. Revolution seemed to glimmer on the horizon. Millions took to the streets in protest. The world was exploding with change. Everywhere, that is, except in the factories where I worked. Every morning at dawn we punched in as usual. We only dreamed at night. It wasn’t that we didn’t know there was a wart raging. There were hardly any draft-age guys in the plants anymore. Co-workers who were absent for several days were assumed to have lost a husband, son, or brother. The ashen grief on their faces when they returned to work confirmed the fact. I knew there was a wat. I wasn’t stupid. I just didn’t know what on earth I could do about it. It was Theresa’s job as a secretary at the university that opened a window, allowing me to feel the hurricane force of change. She brought home leaflets, pamphlets, and underground newspapers. I read about Black Power and Women’s Liberation. I began to understand that outrage against the war was much deeper and more organized than I'd realized. “There’s campus rallies and protests almost every day now,” she told me, “not just against the war, but to open up the schools to everybody.” Theresa ordered home subscriptions to the morning and evening papers. One day she left a copy of The Ladder on the couch. It was a magazine put out by a group called the Daughters of Bilitis. I didn’t know who Bilitis was. ’'d never seen anything about women like us in print before. “Where'd you get this?” I shouted to her. She called back from the kitchen, “In the mail.” “You got this sent to our address in the mail? Was it wrapped? What if someone in the building saw it?” After a long silence, Theresa came in with a hand mirror and held it up to my face. “Did you think you were a secret?”

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  “It changes you,” she said. “What they do to you in here, the shit you take every day on the streets—it changes you, you know?” I listened. She smiled. “T can’t remember if I was ever as sweet as you are when I was your age.” Her smile faded. “I don’t want to see you change. I don’t want to see you after you’ve hardened up.” I sort of understood. But I was really worried about Al and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. This sounded like a philosophical discussion. I didn’t know if I was going to live to an age where experience would change me. I just wanted to live through tonight. I wanted to know where Al was. The cops told Mona she’d been bailed out. “T must look a mess,” she said. “You look beautiful,” I told her, and I meant it. I looked at her face for a last moment, wondering if the men she gave herself to loved her as much as I did. “You really are a sweet butch,” Mona said before she left. That felt good. 34 Leslie Feinberg The cops dragged Al in just after Mona left. She was in pretty bad shape. Her shirt was partly open and her pants zipper was down. Her binder was gone, leaving her large breasts free. Her hair was wet. There was blood running from her mouth and nose. She looked dazed, like Mona. The cops pushed her into the cell. Then they approached me. I backed up until I was up against the bars. They stopped and smiled. One cop rubbed his crotch. The other put his hands under my armpits and lifted me up, a couple inches off the floor, and slammed me against the bars. He pressed his thumbs deep into my breasts and jammed his knee between my legs. “You should be this tall soon, tall enough your feet would reach the ground. That’s when we'll take cate of you like we did your pussy friend Allison,” he taunted me. Then they left. Allison. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and Zippo lighter and slid over to where Al was slumped on the floor. I was shaking, “Al,” I said, extending the pack. She didn’t look up. I put my hand on her arm. She sloughed it off. Her head was down. I could just see the expanse of her wide back, the curves of her shoulders. I touched them without thinking twice. She let me. I smoked with one hand and touched her back with the other. She began to tremble. I put my arms around her. Her body softened against me. She was hurt. The parent had become the child for this moment. I felt strong. There was comfort to be found in my arms. “Hey, look at this,” one cop yelled to another. “Allison found herself a baby butch. They look like two faggots.” The cops laughed.