Capricorn Love Quotes

Our universe grants every soul a twin- a reflection of themselves -the kindred spirit - And no matter where they are or how far away they are from each other- even if they are in different dimensions, they will always find one another. This is destiny; this is love.

We wear a lot of labels in our lives, and it's so very easy to be defined by them. We have grown somehow accustomed to thinking of ourselves as a size eight or a size fourteen, as a capricorn or a taurus, as single or in love.

I think someday you're going to be a great writer," he said. "But" he added maliciously, "first you'll have to suffer a bit. I mean really suffer, because you don't know what the word means yet. You only think you've suffered. You've got to fall in love first.

When did you know I liked you?" "When you realized I was your best friend.

You not wanting to break me? Broke me.

Hundreds of fights are ahead of us, Weasley. I"ll still want you around at the end of them.

I need to espresso love by whatever beans necessary.

It's close to Christmas." "Oh yeah? I thought everyone was just crushing on an old dude with stellar beard

This is dedicated to a flirty Gem from a grumpy Cap. He knows who he is.

Guess I'll have to crash here again with you," Wesley said with a grin. "You planned it that way." "Whatever would make you think that?" Lloyd's expression said 'really?' "You made us watch the 1964 movie Sleep.

In the beginning was the Word... Whatever this was, the Word, disease or creation, it was still running rampant; it would run on and on, outstrip time and space, outlast the angels, unseat God, unhook the universe. Any word contained all words - for him who had become detached through love or sorrow or whatever the cause. In every word the current ran back to the beginning which was lost and which would never be found again since there was neither beginning nor end but only that which expressed itself in beginning and end.

What is a fanatic? One who believes passionately and acts desperately upon what he believes. I was always believing in something and so getting into trouble. The more my hands were slapped the more firmly I believed. I believed- and the rest of the world did not! If it were only a question of enduring punishment one could go on believing till the end; but the way of the world is more insidious than that. Instead of being punished you are undermined, hollowed out, the ground taken from under your feet. It isn't even treachery, what I have in mind. Treachery is understandable and combatable. No, it is something worse, something less than treachery. It's a negativism that causes you to overreach yourself. you are perpetually spending your energy in the act of balancing yourself. You are seized with a sort of spiritual vertigo, you totter on the brink, your hair stands on end, you can't believe that beneath your feet lies an immeasurable abyss. It comes about through excess of enthusiasm, through a passionate desire to embrace people, to show them your love. The more you reach out toward the world the more the world retreats. Nobody wants real love, real hatred. Nobody wants you to put your hand in his sacred entrails- that's only for the priest in the hour of sacrifice. While you live, while the blood's still warm, you are to pretend that there is no such thing as blood and no such thing as a skeleton beneath the covering of flesh. "Keep off the grass!" That's the motto by which people live.

Your fans, they love you erratic, charmingly gut-shot. They place the rose in your teeth, and you live off the thorns.

You’re a Capricorn to the core. Organized, loves structure, not driven by impulse, a master of restraint.

I know we were conjugating the verb love like two maniacs trying to fuck through an iron gate.

since when have I ever been anything exceptional ?" "Again. Good point

I want us to make rules together.” Lloyd pressed the softest kiss to his mouth. “I want us to break them together, too.

I wouldn't worry about shenanigans happening. I'm sure Lloyd is waiting." "Waiting," his mom nodded, impressed. "That's something." Wesley choked on the horror. Imagine having to wait.

I’m up for it. What do you want us to be? Nurse and patient? Rizzo and Kenickie? I still have that skirt.” Lloyd pulled Wesley tight against him and whispered in his ear. “How about fiancés?” Wesley’s stomach dropped and didn’t stop. A nervous flutter leaked into his voice. “Fiancés?

I suppose it was the worst book any man has ever written. It was a colossal tome and faulty from start to finish. But it was my first book and I was in love with it. If I had had the money, as Gide had, I would have published it at my own expense. If I had had the courage that Whitman had, I would have peddled it from door to door. Everybody I showed it to said it was terrible. I was urged to give up the idea of writing. I had to learn, as Balzac did, that one must write volumes before signing one's own name. I had to learn, as I soon did, that one must give up everything and not do anything else but write, that one must write and write and write, even if everybody in the world advises you against it, even if nobody believes in you. Perhaps one does it just because nobody believes; perhaps the real secret lies in making people believe. That the book was inadequate, faulty, bad, terrible, as they said, was only natural.

I am the gorilla who feels his wings growing, a giddy gorilla in the centre of a satin-like emptiness; the night too grows like an electrical plant, shooting white-hot buds into velvet black space. I am the black space of the night in which the buds break with anguish, a starfish swimming on the frozen dew of the moon. I am the germ of a new insanity, a freak dressed in intelligible language, a sob that is buried like a splinter in the quick of the soul. I am dancing the very sane and lovely dance of the angelic gorilla. These are my brothers and sisters who are insane and unangelic. We are dancing in the hollow of the cup of nothingness. We are of one flesh, but separated like stars.

Whoever, through too great love, which is monstrous after all, dies of his misery, is born again to know neither love nor hate, but to enjoy. And this joy of living, because it is unnaturally acquired, is a poison which eventually vitiates the whole world. Whatever is created beyond the normal limits of human suffering, acts as a boomerang and brings about destruction.

CLEOPATRA TO THE ASP The bright mirror I braved: the devil in it Loved me like my soul, my soul: Now that I seek myself in a serpent My smile is fatal. Nile moves in me; my thighs splay Into the squalled Mediterranean; My brain hides in that Abyssinia Lost armies foundered towards. Desert and river unwrinkle again. Seeming to bring them the waters that make drunk Caesar, Pompey, Antony I drank. Now let the snake reign. A half-deity out of Capricorn, This rigid Augustus mounts With his sword virginal indeed; and has shorn Summarily the moon-horned river From my bed. May the moon Ruin him with virginity! Drink me, now, whole With coiled Egypt's past; then from my delta Swim like a fish toward Rome.

Call it being a Capricorn,

Wesley pinched his wristband, paralyzed by Lloyd’s breathtaking smile. The smile he had been waiting to see for so long.

Hundreds of fights are ahead of us, Wesley. I’ll still want you around at the end of them.

Again the dance hall, the money rhythm, the love that comes over the radio, the impersonal, wingless touch of the crowd. A despair that reaches down to the very soles of the boots, an ennui, a desperation. In the midst of the highest mechanical perfection to dance without joy, to be so desperately alone, to be almost inhuman because you are human. If there were life on the moon what more nearly perfect, joyless evidence of it could there be than this. If to travel away from the sun is to reach the chill idiocy of the moon, then we have arrived at our goal and life is but the cold, lunar incandescence of the sun. This is the dance of ice-cold life in the hollow of an atom, and the more we dance the colder it gets.

Then, as in the middle of the bridge, in the middle of a walk, in the middle always, whether of a book, a conversation, or making love, it was borne in on me again that I had never done what I wanted and out of not doing what I wanted to do there grew up inside me this creation which was nothing but an obsessional plant, a sort of coral growth, which was expropriating everything, including life itself, until life itself became this which was denied but which constantly asserted itself, making life and killing life at the same time.

What strikes me now as the most wonderful proof of my fitness, or unfitness, for the times is the fact that nothing people were writing or talking about had any real interest for me. Only the object haunted me, the separate, detached, insignificant thing. It might be a part of the human body or a staircase in a vaudeville house; it might be a smokestack or a button I had found in the gutter. Whatever it was it enabled me to open up, to surrender, to attach my signature. To the life about me, to the people who made up the world I knew, I could not attach my signature. I was as definitely outside their world as a cannibal is outside the bounds of civilized society. I was filled with a perverse love of the thing-in-itself - not a philosophic attachment, but a passionate, desperately passionate hunger, as if in this discarded, worthless thing which everyone ignored there was contained the secret of my own regeneration.

We are dreamers. We are believers. We seek from our minds with open eyes. We feel from our hearts with common desires. We will fight. We will explore. We will fight for human rights. We will change our disastrous planet. We will dream. We will discover. bring Earth back to life. -Conspicuous Capricorns Book: Unrequited Love

Katherine read constantly. She loved biographies of male dictators and enjoyed a long Stalin phase when she became obsessed, not by the Gulags or by the Yalta Conference, but by his wife’s suicide, his taste for sweet Georgian wines, the way he made his ministers bark ‘The Blue Danube’ after dinner, like dogs. She quoted his daughter Svetlana, who said, ‘He was a Sagittarius, you know, on the cusp with Capricorn.

i wish i was a little less virgo moon a little more gemini rising i don’t mind being a scorpio sun but i wish it hurt less to be vulnerable and that my cancer mars at twenty-six degrees made me less likely to be angry but not talk about it then blame myself i wish my mercury in sagittarius would stop saying things that are rude but true and i would happily swap my venus in capricorn for taurus or anything a little less analytical i wish my pisces midheaven had a little more self-resolve and my chiron in leo didn’t try to sabotage my success all i’m asking is to switch some signs shift the sky i just need a little change

With the refinements that come with maturity the smells faded out, to be replaced by only one other distinctly memorable, distinctly pleasurable smell - the odour of cunt. More particularly the odour that lingers on the fingers after playing with a woman, for, if it has not been noticed before, this smell is even more enjoyable, perhaps because it already carried with it the perfume of the past tense, than the odour of the cunt itself. But this odour, which belongs to maturity, is but a faint odour compared with the odours attaching to childhood. It is an odour which evaporates, almost as quickly in the mind's imagination, as in reality. One can remember many things about the woman one has loved but it is hard to remember the smell of her cunt - with anything like certitude. The smell of wet hair, on the other hand, a woman's wet hair, is much more powerful and lasting - why, I don't know.

Unlike other features on OkCupid, there is no visual component to match percentage. The number between two people only reflects what you might call their inner selves—everything about what they believe, need, and want, even what they think is funny, but nothing about what they look like. Judging by just this compatibility measure, the four largest racial groups on OkCupid—Asian, black, Latino, and white—all get along about the same.1 In fact, race has less effect on match percentage than religion, politics, or education. Among the details that users believe are important, the closest comparison to race is Zodiac sign, which has no effect at all. To a computer not acculturated to the categories, “Asian” and “black” and “white” could just as easily be “Aries” and “Virgo” and “Capricorn.” But this racial neutrality is only in theory; things change once the users’ own opinions, and not just the color-blind workings of an algorithm, come into play.

It was like a page out of the telephone book. Alphabetically, numerically, statistically, it made sense. But when you looked at it up close, when you examined the pages separately, or the parts separately, when you examined one lone individual and what constituted him, examined the air he breathed, the life he led, the chances he risked, you saw something so foul and degrading, so low, so miserable, so utterly hopeless and senseless, that it was worse than looking into a volcano. Outwardly it seems to be a beautiful honeycomb, with all the drones crawling over each other in a frenzy of work; inwardly it’s a slaughterhouse, each man killing off his neighbor and sucking the juice from his bones. Superficially it looks like a bold, masculine world; actually it’s a whorehouse run by women, with the native sons acting as pimps and the bloody foreigners selling their flesh... The whole continent is sound asleep and in that sleep a grand nightmare is taking place… At night the streets of New York reflect the crucifixion and death of Christ. When the snow is on the ground and there is the utmost silence there comes out of the hideous buildings of New York a music of such sullen despair and bankruptcy as to make the flesh shrivel. No stone was laid upon another with love or reverence; no street was laid for dance or joy. One thing has been added to another in a mad scramble to fill the belly, and the streets smell of empty bellies and full bellies and bellies half full. The streets smell of a hunger which has nothing to do with love; they smell of the belly which is insatiable and of the creations of the empty belly which are null and void. Just as the city itself had become a huge tomb in which men struggled to earn a decent death so my own life came to resemble a tomb which I was constructing out of my own death. I was walking around in a stone forest the center of which was chaos; sometimes in the dead center, in the very heart of chaos, I danced or drank myself silly, or I made love, or I befriended some one, or I planned a new life, but it was all chaos, all stone, and all hopeless and bewildering. Until the time when I would encounter a force strong enough to whirl me out of this mad stone forest no life would be possible for me nor could one page be written which would have meaning… Everybody and everything is a part of life... As an individual, as flesh and blood, I am leveled down each day to make the fleshless, bloodless city whose perfection is the sum of all logic and death to the dream. I am struggling against an oceanic death in which my own death is but a drop of water evaporating. To raise my own individual life but a fraction of an inch above this sinking sea of death I must have a faith greater than Christ’s, a wisdom deeper than that of the greatest seer. I must have the ability and the patience to formulate what is not contained in the language of our time, for what is now intelligible is meaningless. My eyes are useless, for they render back only the image of the known. My whole body must become a constant beam of light, moving with an ever greater rapidity, never arrested, never looking back, never dwindling. The city grows like a cancer; I must grow like a sun. The city eats deeper and deeper into the red; it is an insatiable white louse which must die eventually of inanition. I am going to starve the white louse which is eating me up. I am going to die as a city in order to become again a man. Therefore I close my ears, my eyes, my mouth. Infinitely better, as life moves toward a deathly perfection, to be just a bit of breathing space, a stretch of green, a little fresh air, a pool of water. Better also to receive men silently and to enfold them, for there is no answer to make while they are still frantically rushing to turn the corner.

We were undeniable. Even your friend(s) were happy we were together. Yet you say you are happy with her. Yes, you have built a life for yourself I know. She put in the hours, the months, the years. You picked her for your wife, a choice well thought out from your heart of hearts. You will never leave...you are a Capricorn, man of loyalty to loved ones. I not only get that, I respect that. Yet why me? Why the attraction? Why did you say I made you happy? Why in the heat of passion did you ask, "Do you love me?" Why so often did you say, I miss you? And when you left why did you say you would miss me...for real? Thank god I kept distant emotionally........or so I thought.

No stone was laid upon· another with love or reverence; no street was laid for dance or joy. One thing has been added to another in a mad scramble to fill the belly, and the streets smell of empty bellies and full bellies and bellies half full. The streets smell of a hunger which has nothing to do with love; they smell of thc belly which is insatiable and of the creations of the cmpty helly which are null and void.

I was as definitely outside their world as a cannibal is outside the bounds of civilized society. I was filled with a perverse love of the thing in itself. Not a philosophic attachment, but a passionate, desperately passionate hunger. As if in this discarded, worthless thing which everyone ignored, there was contained the secret of my own regeneration. Living in the midst of a world where there was a plethora of the new, I attached myself to the old. In every object there was a minute particle which particularly claimed my attention. I had a microscopic eye for the blemish, for the grain of ugliness, which to me constituted the sole beauty of the object. Whatever set the object apart, or made it unserviceable, or gave it a date, endeared it to me.

But deep down, I think I was mad at myself. I knew I wasn't actually planning to do anything, that it was just a cry for attention. And I hated myself for it." "But what's so bad about needing attention? Especially if you're in pain, or struggling." I shrugged. "Call it being a Capricorn," I said. It was a deliberately simplistic response, because how else could I express it, 'I'm in pain, I'm struggling, I need you.' It always blew my mind, when people on social media posted things like 'I'm having a bad day, please send compliments!' I loved that for them, being so open, but I'd rather saw off my own foot.

After years of clandestine circulation, Frank Harris’s erotic autobiography, My Life and Loves, came on the open market a few years ago. Harris, fin de

I got up to go on some pretext and she accompanied me to the stoop. I said goodbye on the top step and then jumped down by the side with a prayer in my heart that she’d come a step or two down, and she did. There she stood, her hips on a level with my mouth; in a moment my hands went up her dress, the right to her sex, the left to her bottom behind to hold her. The thrill as I touched her half-fledged sex was almost painful in intensity. Her first movement brought her sitting down on the step above me and at once my finger was busy in her slit. “How dare you!” she cried, but not angrily. “Take your hand away!” “Oh, how lovely your sex is!” I exclaimed, as if astounded. “Oh, I must see it and have you, you miracle of beauty!” and my left hand drew down her head for a long kiss while my middle finger continued its caress. Of a sudden her lips grew hot and at once I whispered, “Won’t you love me, dear? I want you so: I’m burning and itching with desire. (I knew she was!) Please; I won’t hurt you and I’ll take care. Please, love, no one will know,” and the end of it was that right there on the porch I drew her to me and put my sex against hers and began the rubbing of her tickler and front part of her sex that I knew would excite her. In a moment she came and her love—dew wet my sex and excited me terribly; but I kept on frigging her with my manroot while restraining myself from coming by thinking of other things, till she kissed me of her own accord and suddenly moving forward pushed my prick right into her pussy . .

Our fourth chakra is our heart chakra that gives pure love, compassion, good parent quality, self-confidence and detachment. Our spirit is most importantly in our heart, and the spirit is nothing but love. Its ruling planet is Venus, which represents the signs of Taurus and Libra as love, beauty, art and rule. A Venus which works well creates harmony and beauty wherever it is. It makes you feel nice to people. Strong Venus in a birth chart adds significant beauty to a male. The uniqueness stretches out from a person's inner nature and focuses on a person's behavior and attitude. Benevolence and sweetness encourage us to create positive emotions in people and help us transform them. When our heart opens, we become more connected with our subconscious. The spirit of pure love that is ignited in our heart naturally extends to our surroundings and also sparks similar emotions among the people around us. •       The Vishuddhi is called the fifth Chakra. This chakra located in our throat area helps us to feel that we are part and parcel of the whole. When this chakra is open we feel that we are a part of the whole. When this chakra is open, we experience the sensation of being one with the universe, with nature and with other humans. Saturn is the ruling planet for that center of energy. Saturn also rules the Capricorn and Aquarius signs. In our birth chart difficult aspects of Saturn make us feel lonely in life. Saturn is something of a disciplined teacher. Saturn's position in our birth chart offers us life field checks and lets us develop our shortcomings. It reveals the human character parts which need to be completed. It sometimes limits, creates hurdles and makes initiatives useless. Saturn is doing this so we are learning the lesson it is trying to teach. Once we learn our limitations and discover them, Saturn gives us stability, robustness and detachment. The fifth chakra also governs the ability within us to discern between right and wrong. During moments that Saturn is questioning us, with the aid of this chakra, we will use our power of judgment to realize what is right and wrong. This center of energy also gives us a state of witness. This allows us to enjoy life while playing our role and as a drama experience all the tragedy and difficulties. In this game the earth, the whole universe and planets play a role and put it on stage. Saturn creates a pessimistic personality when functioning badly, who cannot see the good things in life and feels sorry for himself.

The magnificence of the English spring had stilled not only his tongue, but his thoughts also. His brain, always run ragged with theories and ideas, interpreting feelings, uncovering meanings, over-thinking how he was feeling himself and worrying about those he loved—it had stopped. All of it. The relief of having his mind fill instead with the fragrant, glorious silence of the morning astounded him.

The astrological signs are divided into four elements: water, earth, air, and fire. the weather complement one another, interfere with one another, fight, or get together. Hence there's what we call love compatibility between the signs. And what signs belong to every element? Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces are fabricated from water; Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn, of the earth; Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius, of the air; and Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, fire. Look at the love compatibility between the signs and find out who would be your ideal partner

I want to explain her in a way that would make you love her, but the problem with this is that loving is something we all do alone and through different sets of eyes. It’s nearly impossible, at least in my experience, to listen to someone telling a story about their partner and not wish they’d get to the point a little faster: OK, so, you’re saying he likes long walks, you’re saying she’s a Capricorn, skip to the end. It’s easy to understand why someone might love a person but far more difficult to push yourself down into that understanding, to pull it up to your chin like bedclothes and feel it settling around you as something true.