If the soul cannot find its jacket. it is condemned to an eternity of wandering--naked and alone
When the immense drugged universe explodes In a cascade of unendurable colour And leaves us gasping naked, This is no more than the ectasy of chaos: Hold fast, with both hands, to that royal love Which alone, as we know certainly, restores Fragmentation into true being. Ecstasy of Chaos
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, there's a couple lying naked in bed reading Encyclopediea Brittannica to each other, and arguing about whether the Andromeda Galaxy is more 'numinous' than the Ressurection. Do they know how to have a good time, or don't they?
Since the first human eye saw a leaf in Devonian sandstone and a puzzled finger reached to touch it, sadness has lain over the heart of man. By this tenuous thread of living protoplasm, stretching backward into time, we are linked forever to lost beaches whose sands have long since hardened into stone. The stars that caught our blind amphibian stare have shifted far or vanished in their courses, but still that naked, glistening thread winds onward. No one knows the secret of its beginning or its end. Its forms are phantoms. The thread alone is real; the thread is life.
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.
I want no blood from you--not until we're both sweaty and naked and you're screaming my name.
Hate to disappoint, but no feathers. I came to Earth stripped naked.
I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky.
Everyone is a potential naked slave to you once you become a trainer.
Never fry bacon when you're naked.
I dreamed about you baby. It was just the other night. Most of you was naked Ah, but some of you was light.
There are two things a Highlander likes naked, and the other one is Malt Whisky
Catholics have more extreme sex lives because they're taught that pleasure is bad for you. Who thinks it's normal to kneel down to a naked man who's nailed to a cross? It's like a bad leather bar.
I spend most of my life naked. In fact, I often have to be told by the people around me that it's inappropriate to be as naked as I am.
I'm naked in Esquire in August. I was naked on the set the other day. I'm always naked. I'm naked right now, in fact.
In my house every Sunday, everybody was cleaning the house. There was always music, and everybody was dancing, sometimes naked around the house. Not hippie, but very free.
I was in Florida with Burt Stern, the photographer who shot Marilyn Monroe on the beach with a sweater, and we smoked a joint. The bathing suit kept coming off in the water, and I just ripped it off. I was very comfortable being naked
Trying to be a professional dancer, paying my rent by posing nude for art classes, staring at people staring at me naked. Daring them to think of me as anything but a form they were trying to capture with their pencils and charcoal. I was defiant. Hell-bent on surviving. On making it. But it was hard and it was lonely, and I had to dare myself every day to keep going.
The naked women's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man.
We create the illusions we need to go on. And one day, when they no longer dazzle or comfort, we tear them down, brick by glittering brick, until we are left with nothing but the bright light of honesty. The light is liberating. Necessary. Terrifying. We stand naked and emptied before it. And when it is too much for our eyes to take, we build a new illusion to shield us from its relentless truth.
When you're writing what you love, it's the most fun you can have with your clothing still on, unless of course, you write naked.
A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many. It changes not only in growing light toward zenith and decline again, but in texture and mood, in tone and meaning, warped by a thousand factors of season, of heat or cold, of still or multi winds, torqued by odors, tastes, and the fabrics of ice or grass, of bud or leaf or black-drawn naked limbs. And as a day changes so do its subjects, bugs and birds, cates, dogs, butterflies and people.
I come from a family of all women and one boy, my brother. We're all women and we're all precocious and opinionated and like to have fun and we always had friends in the house and we were always, like, half-naked.
They say asteroids hit the moon pretty often, which is how the moon gets its crater, but this one is going to be the biggest asteroid ever to hit it and on a clear night you should be able to see the impact when it happens, maybe even with the naked eye but certainly with binoculars. They made it sound pretty dramatic, but I still don't think it's worth three homework assignments.
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