Though I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport; they... often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare, or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses, and don't know.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
In those days, the blag slag, the waste of the coal pits, had only begun to cover the side of our hill. Not enough to mar the coun...tryside nor blacken the beauty of our village. For the colliery had only begun to poke its skinny black fingers between the green.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I thought that God put me on the earth without asking if I wanted to be a woman or what color I would prefer to be. I could not he...lp it if he gave me skin so black it was blue, a face not exactly dripping with beauty. But I was content, and maybe if I had to choose right now, in this precise moment, I would choose this bluish skin and this face without dripping beauty.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Ashtrays to cry into, the suffering brother of the wood walls,... the forty-eight keys of the typewriter each an eyeball that is never shut, the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest, the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde....LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Sadomasochism has always been the furthest reach of the sexual experience: when sex becomes most purely sexual, that is, severed f...rom personhood, from relationships, from love. It should not be surprising that it has become attached to Nazi symbolism in recent years. Never before was the relation of masters and slaves so consciously aestheticized. Sade had to make up his theater of punishment and delight from scratch, improvising the decor and costumes and blasphemous rites. Now there is a master scenario available to everyone. The color is black, the material is leather, the seduction is beauty, the justification is honesty, the aim is ecstasy, the fantasy is death.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Of thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white to make up my delight,... no odd becoming graces, Black eyes, or little know-not-whats, in faces; Make me but mad enough, give me good store Of Love, for her I Court I ask no more, 'Tis love in love that makes the sport.
Is not the midnight like Central Africa to most of us? Are we not tempted to explore it,--to penetrate to the shores of its Lake T...chad, and discover the source of its Nile, perchance the Mountains of the Moon? Who knows what fertility and beauty, moral and natural, are to be found? In the Mountains of the Moon, in the Central Africa of the night, there is where all Niles have their hidden heads. The expeditions up the Nile as yet extend but to the Cataracts, or perchance to the mouth of the White Nile; but it is the black Nile that concerns us.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »