I like you... again. There. You win. You can do your victory dance or slaughter a goat, or whatever it is you do when you're happy.
The joy which we inspire has this charming property, that, far from growing meagre, like all reflections, it returns to us more radiant than ever.
Bill, when you're my age, you'll find out it's the little savors and little things that count more than big ones. A walk on a spring morning is better than an eighty-mile ride in a hopped-up car, you know why? Because it's full of flavors, full of a lot of things growing. You've time to seek and find.
The joy. It comes around rarely. So rarely we forget it can happen…
Conversation with Jon Snow
A short period of exquisite felicity followed, and but a short one.
I mean, what could ever be better than sex?
For sure, even the worst blow job is better than, say, sniffing the best rose... watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh.
I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, guthosing orgasm.
Painting a picture, composing an opera, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass.