If we were all familiar with each other’s sexual intimacies, we would stop greeting each other.
Men begin to die at their first sexual experience.
Every timid person is a candidate for a sex crime.
The skinny should only make love while dressed, and never with the lights on.
Those who have never wished to die with their beloved have never loved at all, nor know what it is to love.
Every normal person is randy when they’re caught red-handed.
The pure hearted are capable of totally unexpected abjections and the obscene, of breathtaking inconsistencies. We are that purity and we are that misery. While we appear bursting with light, like a stained glass saint, meanwhile we emerge something similar to a Minotaur.
All desire is vile.
A tightly crowded bus is a tomb for the chaste.
Asthmatic people are the only ones who do not betray.
We do not attribute much importance to kissing on the lips. And yet, the true deflowering happens at the first kiss on the lips. True possession is the kiss on the lips, and I repeat: it is the kiss on the lips that makes the couple a unique and definite being. Everything else is so secondary, so fragile, and so unreal.
Only the face is indecent. From the neck down, one could walk around naked.
Beds are metaphysical pieces of furniture.
The amorous are sincere even when they lie.
All love is eternal. If it isn’t eternal, it wasn’t love.
To love is to be faithful to those who betray us.
Every one of us has loved wrongly, has hated wrongly.
Every love is bound to suffer murderous persecution.
We are impotent of sentimentality and unforgiving of the love of others. Therefore, don’t let anyone know that you love.
Without passion we are disinclined even to slurp on a popsicle.
To love gives reason to those who do not.
Chastity is the most aphrodisiacal of the virtues.
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