Christian stretched out beside her and pulled her close. ʺbut for what itʹs worth, i think youʹd be a great queen too, princess dragomir.ʺ ʺyouʹre going to get dirty,ʺ she warned. ʺalready am. oh, you mean from your clothes?ʺ he wrapped his arms around her, heedless of her damp and muddy state. ʺi spent most of my childhood hiding in a dusty attic and own exactly one dress shirt. you really think i care about this t-shirt?ʺ
With my sister perched on my arm, i walked to the elevator. a business man with a rolling suitcase was waiting by the doors. his eyes widened as he saw me. i must’ve looked pretty strange—a tall black kid in dirty, ragged egyptian clothes, with a weird box tucked under one arm and a bird of prey perched on the other. how’s it going? i said. i’ll take the stairs. he hurried off.
That is supposed to be the rallying cry of women in the age of aids: no condom, no sex. But the dirty little secret is that the rallying cry is a whisper.... The great unspoken on the heterosexual aids front has been how behavior is still determined by the old psychosexual minuet of the sexes, the lack of responsibility in young men and of assertiveness in young women.
Providence has ordained that i should be the greatest liberator of humanity. I am freeing man from the restraints of an intelligence that has taken charge, from the dirty and degrading self-mortification of a false vision called conscience and morality, and from the demands of a freedom and independence which only a very few can bear.
If we're doing this for ten hours, i'm going to need a little incentive to stay motivated." patch hooked his elbow around my neck and dragged me into a kiss. "every time you strip my sword, i owe you a kiss. How's that sound?" i bit my lip to keep from giggling. "that sounds really dirty." patch waggled his eyebrows. "look whose mind just rolled into the gutter. Two kisses per strip. Any objections?" i pulled on an innocent face. "none whatsoever.
I was naturally a loner, content just to live with a woman, eat with her, sleep with her, walk down the street with her. I didn't want conversation, or to go anywhere except the racetrack or the boxing matches. I didn't understand t.V. I felt foolish paying money to go into a movie theatre and sit with other people to share their emotions. Parties sickened me. I hated the game-playing, the dirty play, the flirting, the amateur drunks, the bores.
Out in hollywood, where the streets are paved with goldwyn, the word "sophisticate" means, very simply, "obscene." a sophisticatedstory is a dirty story. Some of that meaning was wafted eastward and got itself mixed up into the present definition. So that a "sophisticate" means: one who dwells in a tower made of a dupont substitute for ivory and holds a glass of flat champagne in one hand and an album of dirty post cards in the other.
James cain - faugh! Everything he touches smells like a billygoat. He is every kind of writer i detest, a faux naix, a proust in greasy overalls, a dirty little boy with a piece of chalk and a board fence and nobody looking. Such people are the offal of literature, not because they write about dirty things, but because they do it in a dirty way.
Trains are great dirty smoky things," said will. "you won't like it." tessa was unmoved. "i won't know if i like it until i try it, will i?" "i've never swum naked in the thames before, but i know i wouldn't like it." "but think how entertaining for sightseers," said tessa, and she saw jem duck his head to hide the quick flash of his grin.