Bateman Quotes

...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.

…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing….

Why not? Give me one good reason why we shouldn't get married." Because trying to fuck you is like trying to french-kiss a very.... small and... lively gerbil? With braces?

This is true: the world is better off with some people gone. Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.

I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.

Patrick Bateman: I'm on a diet. Jean: What, you're kidding, right? You look great... so fit... and thin. Patrick Bateman: Well, you can always be thinner... look better. Jean: Then maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner. I wouldn't want you to lose your willpower. Patrick Bateman: That's okay. I'm not very good at controlling it anyway. Share this quote

You know," Glen Bateman said, looking out toward Grand Junction in the early light of morning, "I've heard the saying 'That sucks' for years without really being sure of what it meant. Now I think I know.

You don't know what torture is. You don't know what you're talking about. You really don't know what you're talking about.

The seals stupidly dive off rocks into swirling black water, barking mindlessly. The zookeepers feed them dead fish. A crowd gathers around the tank, mostly adults, a few accompanied by children. On the seals' tank a plaque warns: COINS CAN KILL——IF SWALLOWED, COINS CAN LODGE IN AN ANIMAL'S STOMACH AND CAUSE ULCERS, INFECTIONS AND DEATH. DO NOT THROW COINS IN THE POOL. So what do I do? Toss a handful of change into the tank when none of the zookeepers are watching. It's not the seals I hate——it's the audience's enjoyment of them that bothers me.

There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul's apartment overlooks the park... and is obviously more expensive than mine.

It's a powerful statement and one that Whitney sings with a grandeur that approaches the sublime. Its universal message crosses all boundaries and instills one with the hope that it's not too late for us to better ourselves, to act kinder. Since it's impossible in the world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves. It's an important message, crucial really, and it's beautifully stated in this album.

Always strive to be a better parent to your children than your parents were to you. —DALEEN BATEMAN BARLOW

What do you think I do?” And frisky too. “A model?” She shrugs. “An actor?” “No,” I say. “Flattering, but no.” “Well?” “I’m into, oh, murders and executions mostly. It depends.” I shrug. “Do you like it?” she asks, unfazed. “Um… It depends. Why?” I take a bit of sorbet. “Well, most guys I know who work in mergers and acquisitions don’t really like it,” she says. “That’s not what I said,” I say, adding a forced smiled, finishing my J&B. “Oh, forget it.

If you dwell in the darkness, you can see in the dark and look into the light. But in choosing the darkness, you know you are destined to walk alone.

Books are precious things and cannot be selected like tinned peas in Tesco.

Bookselling is like prostitution, you sell your wares, you close your eyes, and you never fall in love with the clients. You also keep your fingers crossed that they won't ask for anything perverted.

But that's the thing about truth - even when you think you know it, it can still sneak up behind you and knock you down.

Is that what we come into the world for, to hurry to an office, and work hour after hour till night, then hurry home and dine and go to a theatre? Is that how I must spend my youth? Youth lasts so short a time, Bateman. And when I am old, what have I to look forward to? To hurry from my home in the morning to my office and work hour after hour after hour till night, and then hurry home again, and dine and go to a theatre? That may be worthwhile if you make a fortune; I don’t know, it depends on your nature; but if you don’t, is it worth while then? I want to make more out of my life than that, Bateman.

I have to return some video tapes." – Patrick Bateman's all-purpose exit excuse in "American Psycho

I try not to crave things I can't afford." "You are a world-class liar, August Bateman. Every inch of craves things you can't afford or don't feel like you're allowed to have.

Don’t tell me he was another serial killer, Bateman. Not another serial killer.” “No, McDufus, he wasn’t a serial killer,

I tried to speak, to tell Kit I wasn't dead. No sound came out. But I managed to lift one arm a few inches and execute a tiny wave. Hello, still alive. In a fuck ton of pain, but not dead.

He was the type of man women said they hated, they absolutely hated, they absolutely and categorically hated, and then they went to bed with him. I was the type of man women said they hated, and then they went home.

I then swept the crumbs into my palm and opened one of the empty drawers and poured them in. I was working on the theory that if I collected enough crumbs, eventually I could make my own Twix. It's good to have a purpose in life.

I don’t think it’s possible to put a time line to love. Once it’s there, it’s like there’s never been anything else. Time bends, and suddenly I knew that I’ve always loved you.

Cinderella never had it so good. All she got was a lousy coach and breakable shoes.

I don't need light to see you. I know what you are: a beautiful, infuriating force of nature.

Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.

It takes some intelligence and insight to figure out you're gay and then a tremendous amount of balls to live it and live it proudly.

Serial Killer Week got off to an inauspicious start when the opening wine and bean evening was invaded by a former prisoner who misinterpreted the poster, but he was at least able to give us the professional's view of the genre.

… there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.

I felt less like Cinderella and more like used drywall. Perpetually screwed.

I’m so far from lucky, I’m kissing its ass from the other side.

If I ever decide to become a male tart, I'll use that quote on my trade cards. Tristan Montgomery: a hundred times better than your previous lover

They pulled their ringtabs and Bateman raised his can. “To us, Stu. May we have happy days, satisfied minds, and little or no low back pain.

I have to return some videotapes Patrick Bateman

He was like Christian Grey meets Howard Hughes meets Patrick Bateman.

They asked me how I would be paying and I told them that if past experience was anything to go by probably with my life and the thin girl with the thick spectacles reached deep into her soul for a smile and repeated the question.

Not very scientific,” Bateman said kindly. “What kind of an American are you? Show me a second dog—preferably a bitch—and I’ll accept your thesis that somewhere there is a third. But don’t show me one and from that posit a second. It won’t do.

…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape.

If he’s alive, there will be others.” “Not very scientific,” Bateman said kindly. “What kind of an American are you? Show me a second dog—preferably a bitch—and I’ll accept your thesis that somewhere there is a third. But don’t show me one and from that posit a second. It won’t do.

There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I am simply not there.

there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.

…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.

there were two Patrick Batemans: there was the handsome and socially awkward boy next door whose name no one could remember because he seemed like everybody else—having conformed like everybody else—and there was the nocturnal Bateman who roamed the streets looking for prey, asserting his monstrousness, his individuality. At the end of the ’80s I saw this as an appropriate response to a society obsessed with the surface of things and inclined to ignore anything that even hinted at the darkness lurking below. The novel seemed an accurate summation of the Reagan era, with the Iran-Contra affair being obliquely referenced in the last chapter, and the violence unleashed inside was connected to my frustration, and at least hinted at something real and tangible in this superficial age of surfaces. Because blood and viscera were real, death was real, rape and murder were real—though in the world of American Psycho maybe they weren’t any more real than the fakery of the society being depicted. That was the book’s bleak thesis.

Also, I have a mornid fear of rates, and mice, and nettles and wasps and jagged cans and rotting food and damp newspapers and the unemployed.

If we truly want peace in the world, we have to do more than just dream about it.

In the garden and not on the cross, Jesus saw each of us and not only bore our sins but also experienced our deepest feelings so he would know how to comfort and strengthen us.

The more attention you pay to the behavior you want from students, the more it will happen.

I’d be the first to admit it was a massively screwed-up pattern — when I was truly upset, I reverted to the habits I’d developed during the worst years of my life. When

Life is too short to spend an hour and a half on a mystery that will ultimately be solved by a cat.

And nobody has ever gotten emotional over a James Patterson novel.

Loving our enemies isn’t something we can do on our own.

We need to make sure we keep things in the proper perspective and put God first in our lives. We don’t want anything or anybody to come between us and God.

A Personal Atonement At some point the multitudinous sins of countless ages were heaped upon the Savior, but his submissiveness was much more than a cold response to the demands of justice. This was not a nameless, passionless atonement performed by some detached, stoic being. Rather, it was an offering driven by infinite love. This was a personalized, not a mass atonement. Somehow, it may be that the sins of every soul were individually (as well as cumulatively) accounted for, suffered for, and redeemed for, all with a love unknown to man. Christ tasted "death for every man" (Hebrews 2:9; emphasis added), perhaps meaning for each individual person. One reading of Isaiah suggests that Christ may have envisioned each of us as the atoning sacrifice took its toll—"when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed" (Isaiah 53:10; emphasis added; see also Mosiah 15:10–11). Just as the Savior blessed the "little children, one by one" (3 Nephi 17:21); just as the Nephites felt his wounds "one by one" (3 Nephi 11:15); just as he listens to our prayers one by one; so, perhaps, he suffered for us, one by one. President Heber J. Grant spoke of this individual focus: "Not only did Jesus come as a universal gift, He came as an individual offering with a personal message to each one of us. For each one of us He died on Calvary and His blood will conditionally save us. Not as nations, communities or groups, but as individuals."55 Similar feelings were shared by C. S. Lewis: "He [Christ] has infinite attention to spare for each one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man in the world."56 Elder Merrill J. Bateman spoke not only of the Atonement's infinite nature, but also of its intimate reach: "The Savior's atonement in the garden and on the cross is intimate as well as infinite. Infinite in that it spans the eternities. Intimate in that the Savior felt each person's pains, sufferings, and sicknesses."57 Since the Savior, as a God, has the capacity to simultaneously entertain multiple thoughts, perhaps it was not impossible for the mortal Jesus to contemplate each of our names and transgressions in concomitant fashion as the Atonement progressed, without ever sacrificing personal attention for any of us. His suffering need never lose its personal nature. While such suffering had both macro and micro dimensions, the Atonement was ultimately offered for each one of us.

God doesn’t give you the spirit of fear. If you are fearful, that fear comes from the enemy. Remind yourself the spirit that comes from God is of power, love, and a sound mind. God empowers you through His love.

For me, it felt like a ploy to somehow shut me down, to get me to hide, to be quiet, to erase myself, all at the exact moment in my life when I had gained the most intelligence, the most wisdom, and the most confidence.

Students frequently misbehave because they (1) want and need attention from adults and peers, (2) are trying to avoid a difficult or unpleasant task (too difficult, too easy, too boring), or (3) for some older students, revenge.

And despite the connections provided by the internet and social media, many people felt even more isolated and increasingly aware that the idea of interconnectivity was itself an illusion. This seems particularly painful when you’re sitting alone in a room and staring at a glowing screen that promises you access to the intimacies of countless other lives, a condition that mirrors Bateman’s loneliness and alienation: everything’s available to him, yet that insatiable emptiness remains.

I stopped at the front desk, about to complain to the doorman, when I was confronted with a NEW doorman, my age but balding and homely and FAT. Three glazed jelly doughnuts AND two steaming cups of extra-dark HOT chocolate opened to the comics and it struck me that I was infinitely better-looking, more successful and richer than this poor bastard would ever be and so with a passing rush of sympathy I smiled and nodded a curt though not impolite good morning without lodging a complaint.

If we looked at time and geography from a mountain's perspective, we would have a more profound sense of history, we would be able to see far and wide, and benefit from the experience of people all over the world. If we thought in the way mountains were formed, we would treat the natural world with more respect.

Storm was an outcast, a geek. She was the girl who dressed weird and always carried an old camera around and took five AP classes her senior year. She listened to bands nobody had ever heard of and spent lunch breaks leaned against a pillar in the middle of the quad with oversize headphones on her ears and equally oversize Russian novels in her lap.

He had started out the way nearly all writers do, and I'd seen it a hundred times--amateurs transformed into gibbering wrecks by actually being published; what once they'd done for fun ruined forever by the burden of expectation, the hope of sales and good reviews and riches, hobbyists turned authors made bitter by the knowledge that they'd missed their main chance.

Despite the fact that Uncle Rulon and his followers regard the governments of Arizona, Utah, and the United States as Satanic forces out to destroy the UEP, their polygamous community receives more than $6 million a year in public funds. More than $4 million of government largesse flows each year into the Colorado City public school district—which, according to the Phoenix New Times, “is operated primarily for the financial benefit of the FLDS Church and for the personal enrichment of FLDS school district leaders.” Reporter John Dougherty determined that school administrators have “plundered the district’s treasury by running up thousands of dollars in personal expenses on district credit cards, purchasing expensive vehicles for their personal use and engaging in extensive travel. The spending spree culminated in December [2000], when the district purchased a $220,000 Cessna 210 airplane to facilitate trips by district personnel to cities across Arizona.” Colorado City has received $1.9 million from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development to pave its streets, improve the fire department, and upgrade the water system. Immediately south of the city limits, the federal government built a $2.8 million airport that serves almost no one beyond the fundamentalist community. Thirty-three percent of the town’s residents receive food stamps—compared to the state average of 4.7 percent. Currently the residents of Colorado City receive eight dollars in government services for every dollar they pay in taxes; by comparison, residents in the rest of Mohave County, Arizona, receive just over a dollar in services per tax dollar paid. “Uncle Rulon justifies all that assistance from the wicked government by explaining that really the money is coming from the Lord,” says DeLoy Bateman. “We’re taught that it’s the Lord’s way of manipulating the system to take care of his chosen people.” Fundamentalists call defrauding the government “bleeding the beast” and regard it as a virtuous act.

On the way to Wall Street this morning, due to gridlock I had to get out of the company car and was walking down Fifth Avenue to find a subway station when I passed what I thought was a Halloween parade, which was disorienting since I was fairly sure this was May. When I stopped on the corner of Sixteenth Street and made a closer inspection it turned out to be something called a "Gay Pride Parade," which made my stomach turn. Homosexuals proudly marched down Fifth Avenue, pink triangles emblazoned on pastel-colored windbreakers, some even holding hands, most singing "Somewhere" out of key and in unison.

On the way to Wall Street this morning, due to gridlock I had to get out of the company car and was walking down Fifth Avenue to find a subway station when I passed what I thought was a Halloween parade, which was disorienting since I was fairly sure this was May. When I stopped on the corner of Sixteenth Street and made a closer inspection it turned out to be something called a "Gay Pride Parade," which made my stomach turn. Homosexuals proudly marched down Fifth Avenue, pink triangles emblazoned on pastel-colored windbreakers, some even holding hands, most singing "Somewhere" out of key and in unison.

On the way to Wall Street this morning, due to gridlock I had to get out of the company car and was walking down Fifth Avenue to find a subway station when I passed what I thought was a Halloween parade, which was disorienting since I was fairly sure this was May. When I stopped on the corner of Sixteenth Street and made a closer inspection it turned out to be something called a "Gay Pride Parade," which made my stomach turn. Homosexuals proudly marched down Fifth Avenue, pink triangles emblazoned on pastel-colored windbreakers, some even holding hands, most singing "Somewhere" out of key and in unison.

Homie caught a body Got a naughty shawty Throw her in the trunk of my purple buggati Opps on my tail damn making this a party Firing shots man I think they might’ve got me Bleeding and speeding on the 401 This is hood economics 101 Got that gangsta archetype like Carl Yung Damn making me ask who am I running from? When I know I got balls and a fuckin loaded gun Roll out on the freeway while takin some heat One cop two cop three’s on his feet Yeah bullseye put one his knee Cryin oh please don’t hurt me you know I got family Put him to sleep with nice slick kick As I head to his home to go meet his kids His wife’s crying in the corner as I fire from the hip Yeah there’s heart in this clip I put my all in this shit Leaving their home while unfulfilled Got a taste for killing need more blood to spill God looking down asking me to chill Fire shots in the air tellin him no deal Already dug my grave and wrote my will Therapist tells me just stay home and masturbate man Tell him fuck off you know I’m Patrick Bateman Killers don’t discriminate you know I still kill women Brutally beat them into mush on the pavement Screaming for help with no-one here to save them My life has purpose and I know who I am A cold blooded killer with two glocks in his hands Better run mothafucka you know you stand no chance Cause it takes two to tango and damn I wanna dance

… há uma idéia de um Patrick Bateman, uma espécie de abstração, mas não existe um eu real, apenas uma entidade, algo ilusório, e embora eu possa esconder meu olhar frio e você possa apertar minha mão e sentir a carne apertando a sua e talvez você possa até pensar que podemos comparar nossos estilos de vida, eu simplesmente não estou aqui. É difícil para mim fazer sentido em qualquer nível dado. Meu eu é inventado, uma aberração. Sou um ser humano nada contingente. Minha personalidade é vaga e informe, minha falta de sentimento é profunda e persistente. Minha consciência, minha piedade, minhas esperanças desapareceram há muito tempo (provavelmente em Harvard), se é que jamais existiram. Não há nenhuma outra barreira a ser vencida. Tudo que tenho em comum com o incontrolável e o insano, o cruel e o mal, todo o horror que causei e minha total indiferença a ele, já superei. Porém, acredito ainda numa terrível verdade, ninguém está a salvo, nada é redimido. Contudo, sou isento de culpa. Devemos pressupor uma validade para cada modelo de comportamento humano. Você é o mal? Ou é alguma coisa que você faz? Minha dor é aguda e constante e não espero um mundo melhor para ninguém. Na verdade, posso desejar muita dor para os outros. Não quero que ninguém escape. Mas, mesmo depois de admiti-lo – e já o admiti muitas vezes, quase em todos os atos que cometi –, e enfrentando essas verdades, não há catarse. Não adquiro um conhecimento mais profundo a meu respeito, nenhuma nova compreensão pode ser tirada se eu contar para alguém, Não há nenhuma razão para que conte tudo isto. Esta confissão não significa coisa alguma…

Gosh,

and i especially don´t like talking to old people. i don´t like having to shout to be heard. i don´t like their turned milk and their soft biscuits. i don´t like their fishy cats and youth dew perfume that smells of mothballs. i don´t like that they grown every time they sit down or stand up., or how loud they have their tv and how much they complain about what´s on tv or how they boast about having their own teeth or why i should be interested in the fact that they can still spell when they´re 89 years old. i´m with the eskimos putting their useless grandparents on ice floes and waving goodbye. this may be monstrous slander on eskimos. it could just as easily be some other tribe with access to large bodies of ice, or just plain water, with crocodiles.

Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.

Es gibt eine Vorstellung von eines Patrick Batemans, die abstrakt ist, aber es gibt kein wahres Ich, eine Entität, etwas Illusorisches. Und obgleich ich meinen kalten Blick verbergen kann, wenn sie meine Hand schütteln und Fleisch fühlen können, was ihres ergreift und sie vielleicht sogar spüren können, dass unsere Lebensstile vergleichbar sind: ich bin ganz einfach nicht da. Mein Schmerz ist gleichbleibend und heftig und ich hoffe für niemanden auf eine bessere Welt. Ich möchte sogar dass meinem Schmerz auch anderen zugefügt wird. Ich will das niemand davonkommt. Aber selbst nachdem ich es selbst zugebe, gibt es keine Katharsis. Meine Bestrafung entzieht sich mich weiterhin und ich bekomme keine tiefen Einsichten über mich selbst. Aus meinem Erzählen kann kein neues Wissen herausgeholt werden. Dieses Geständnis war völlig bedeutungslos.

the conflictual nature of the human psyche and the role of the unconscious – remain as valid and, we would say, relevant today as when Freud first formulated them.

perpetrate against yourself.

Good mentalizing refers to mental and relational strengths as curiosity, perspective taking, forgiveness, reflective contemplation, a trusting attitude, humility, playfulness , willingness to assume responsibility and accept accountability and being aware of one’s impact on others (Bateman and Fonagy 2016

Hence, Bruch, like Bateman and Fonagy, stressed the necessity of tailoring interventions to the patients’ way of psychological functioning (Skårderud and Fonagy 2012). In her posthumously published book Conversations with Anorexics (1988: 8), she writes: The therapeutic task is to help the anorexic patient in her search for autonomy and self-directed identity by evoking awareness of impulses, feelings, and needs that originate within herself. The therapeutic focus needs to be on her failure in self-experience, on her defective tools and concepts for organizing and expressing needs, and on her bewilderment when dealing with others. Therapy represents an attempt to repair the conceptual defects and distortions, the deep-seated sense of dissatisfaction and helplessness, and the conviction that her own self is empty and incomplete and that therefore she is condemned to compliance out of helplessness. Again, she called this a naïve stance.

They’d stopped in front of a pool much larger than the rest. Unlike the others, the surface of this one was not covered in lilies and other water plants, and Emma spied a set of shallow stone steps leading down into it. “Oh! A bathing pool!” she exclaimed in delight. “How wonderful!” “Yes. The heat of the water is extremely effective in relaxing the body. Feel free to make use of it yourself. It is a wonderful feeling, to float about in the steam.

Did you know that each type of orchid attracts its own particular pollinator? Some attract bees, while others need other types of insects. It means there’s an enormous variety in appearance between different kinds.” Kit barely managed to grunt, and she carried on. “I like to think that’s true of people too. That everyone has some aspect of their character or appearance that will attract a specific person to them. That there’s someone out there for everybody. An ideal match so to speak. We just have to find the right one.

You, Justin Thornton, are a man who knows the cost of everything, and the value of nothing. Nothing important, at least.

It’s the antithesis of reason and logic. History’s littered with fools dying for love, going to war for love. Ruining themselves for love. That’s not romantic. It’s imbecilic. Look at Lady Caroline Lamb, smashing a glass and making a scene when Byron ended their affair.” He shook his head. “Ridiculous.” Tess bit back a laugh at his fervency. For someone who claimed to be dispassionate, he seemed to have very strong views on the subject. “And what about the Trojan War?” he continued. “That all started because Paris thought he was in love with Helen, another man’s wife. He wasn’t in love, he was in lust. And he dragged thousands of men to their death because of his unruly loins.

That’s rather romantic, for someone who claims not to believe in love.” His smile was bittersweet. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe in it. I said it was stupid and illogical.

He gave a low laugh at her confusion. “I still can’t help feeling that I owe you a climax.” She tried to school her unruly pulse. “You can write me a voucher – an IOU to be redeemed at a time and place of my choosing.

Do you find me hideous now, Lucia?” he teased, clearly unworried about his own scar. “Do I make you want to scream?” Lucy’s heart was hammering against her ribs. His words sounded as if they had another, far more seductive, meaning. How had things suddenly become so intimate? It felt as if they were the only two people in the ballroom. She clenched her fingers into a fist against the sudden bizarre desire to touch his injured face, and rallied gamely. “Scream? Only in aggravation.

The weapon she had used to end her young life fell from her stiff hand. It​ was​ Hello Kitty branded.

I’ve never told this to anyone, and I’ll probably regret telling you, but when I’m stressed out, Jason Bateman usually comes to my rescue.

Anyhow, where was I?” Rayne giggled and winked to the hypnotized members. “My OnlyFans members love it though when my anus prolapses, and my girlfriend proceeds to French kiss and suck on my descending colon. Sometimes, my fans request I eat corn first so my lover can eat it off my prolapse, that always guarantees a big tip from all the fellas, let me tell you!” I enjoy this discussion because it is a kink that I am unaware of. Although I am not really into anal, it does titillate me and causes my pussy to throb some and squirt a little bit of cum into my panties.

The modern world is turning people into package purchasers with no control over things that can deeply affect their lives and health. We are losing touch with the world of nature and with ourselves as humans.

floor is being prepared for laying concrete, I think.” “OK,” said Rashid. “There’s nobody immediately around you. The guard who was having a piss is now rolling a cigarette and there’s another guard patrolling down the back of the building you’ve just been in.” “Have that…” Luger

Yeah. He told me,” I said, trying to sound confident. What he actually said was simply call upon my name, and the way will open, which wasn’t a lot more specific than Kelwyyn’s get lost in the woods and die. But I could work with that.

like my life with Stacy Bateman in it even more.

Why in society is the idea that an older woman's face need to be fixed? ...Why did we get from facelifts being unusual to 'Yes'? Why are we even suggesting that all these women need to fix their faces? ...There's an absolute opportunity for anyone to grab onto [aging] and say... even if you spend five minutes going, 'Hey, I look great!' and then notice what comes up: what fear comes up? That's how I go through it: whatever irrational fear comes up I've got to write it down or say it out loud so I can expose it and it can start to erode.

I think getting all this plastic surgery is just people pleasing... You don't want people to criticize you anymore so you appease them. The more you do that, the further away you get away from your true self. It doesn't work for me. If somebody said to me now we could do some surgery, wouldn't I be signalling that I'm super insecure? To me, it would.

I would say to any young woman, you're being lied to. Who is making money off this? You're being lied to and you're being tricked off your path... You've got awesome things coming your way. Just stay on your path and just ride it out. Some people are afraid they'll lose their job or never get a job or not get a mate or no one's going to listen to them or whatever... And that fear, my position is, that fear existed before their face started changing. I'm just somebody who got myself on the other side of what that fear was for me in particular, and I'm just sharing what worked for me... Lots of ways to get there, but for anyone who wants to get free.

To me, it's just... there's two ages: dead or alive, and you're one or the other... My whole goal is just to become the most me possible. And that to me involves getting rid of any buttons I've got. So I'm not making any fear-based decisions. I'm just making instinct based decisions. When I was young I had, of course I had a lot of buttons, which causes you to people please and, do things that aren't you. And then over, many years I have a process of understanding what my root fear was that caused me to behave contrary to who I am. And yeah. The more one does that, the more one can be themselves.

I feel sad for [women who use botox]. I feel sad that they're not just enjoying life. I feel sad that they are distracted from the things they're meant to do in life, with this consuming idea that they've got to fix their face before anything else can happen. Forget about your face! That is what I’m saying. Get rid of the fear that your face being wrinkled is going to ruin a bunch of opportunities for you. You can certainly look in the mirror and go "Oh, if I just had like a lower facelift I would get rid of this skin that catches the light, and then I could have that operation where you go into the eyelid, or you know take some of the skin out and this that's hanging over now, over the eyelid, you can get that removed." Sure, you can do all of that, but even with that I would just... I feel like I would erase not only all my authority that I have now, but also I like feeling that I'm a different person now than I was when I was 20. I like looking in the mirror and seeing that evidence.

had them all. [pause] Only, can you drop

She also shoplifted small things from boutiques in Hudson, including the one she lived above. OM: Are you not afraid of getting caught? NEM: I’ve never told this to anyone, and I’ll probably regret telling you, but when I’m stressed out, Jason Bateman usually comes to my rescue. OM: The actor? I didn’t know he lived in Hudson! NEM: He doesn’t. But if I’m really nervous, his face pops into my head, almost against my will. His face often lets me know I’m anxious in the first place. OM: Are you seeing his face right now? NEM: Vaguely. His face appears very briefly, and I just sort of conjure the rest of his presence energetically. But it’s also physical. We’re both expressive blinkers. We both do that slow-blinking thing. You know, like this. OM: Uh-huh.

A gift from her most private region, Pauline does not see it coming. That moment when the cruel knot in each of her hips uncoils. Twang, there it goes. Zzzz rip, that’s another. Like a belt across each side of her groin, such a wonder the pyriformis muscles. They can be a deep source of trapped pain, especially for women. But her spine, it stretches good and long, and the clenching releases. She slithers forward. Heck yeah. Her feet bend backwards in joy. - "Secret Workings" in Your Body Was Made for This by Debbie Bateman

ball sack load of pecker snot