Sm Quotes

It was a kind of sado-masochism. I would take the things that were painful to me and elevate them and, through the mantra of music, make them into a release.

Now let's move on to the subject of how a real man treats his wife. A real man doesn't slap even a ten-dollar hooker around, if he's got any self respect, much less hurt his own woman. Much less ten times over the mother of his kids. A real man busts his ass to feed his family, fights for them if he has to, dies for them if he has to. And he treats his wife with respect every day of his life, treats her like a queen - the queen of the home she makes for their children.

The moral of the tale is this: whoever allows himself to be whipped, deserves to be whipped.

Remember that grief is a necessary pain. It’s your only way to heal. To starve it will destroy you.”~The Grimoire

Maybe you’re so good at listening that you have no idea when to speak.” ~Braeden

It's okay to write crap. Just don't try publishing it while it's still crap.

That's what's so ironic about the conservative backlash against BDSMers. With increased visibility comes increased bigotry, and conservatives continue to rally against kinky events by local groups to get them shut down. What the anti-kink fanatics don't understand about us is that we're geeks. Sex nerds. SM intellectuals. We pay money to spend a weekend going to classes.

And the first king was a lucky soldier.

My hand no longer trembled out of fear, but out of anticipation. I knew I was addicted to the rush it provided, to the release it provided from the emotional mess I had become, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t drugs. It was just a few cuts on my arm.

She will grow out of it, her parents say - but instead, Adeline feels herself growing in, holding tighter to the stubborn hope of something more. The world should be getting larger. Instead, she feels it shrinking, tightening like chains around her limbs as the flat lines of her own body begin to curve out against it, and suddenly the charcoal beneath her nails is unbecoming, as is the idea that she would choose her own company over Arnaud's or George'sm or any man who might have her. She is at odds with everything, she does not fit, an insult to her sex, a stubborn child in a woman's form, her head bowed and arms wrapped tight around her drawing pad as if it were a door.

The time will come when you will doubt everything you stand for, but you must push forward and never stop. Do not let others speak for you, or you will lose your voice forever.” ~The Grimoire

But that’s the trouble with moments—they end." ~Narrator

A pervert is anybody kinkier than you are

That night I did it. I used a utility knife from our garage. It was amazing. For that brief moment, all the tension, anxiety, stress I put on myself disappeared. It went up in a cloud of smoke and my head was finally clear after months of endless internal battles.

But for your eyes. Green as spring grass, and sparkling like dew in the morning sun.

The question isn't "Why do we die?" The question is "Why do we live?

I would parade you in the hall of the monarchs of the ocean if you could breathe water.

She’s a natural submissive and she doesn’t have a clue.

You can learn by listening, or by getting whacked between the eyes with a two-by-four. I always found listening easier.

When a show ends, for a few days, my body sizzles with leftover energy, like a tree in the wake of a lightning strike.

SM is an art. Doing it well requires more than a bag full of expensive whips and exotic electrical toys, a closet full of fetish clothes, or a basement filled with bondage furniture.

Winter’s head snapped around, away from Scarlet. Scarlet’s pace slowed, dread pulsing through her as she, too, heard the footsteps. Pounding footsteps, like someone was running at full speed toward them. She reached for the knife Jacin had given her. A man barrelled around the corner, heading straight for the princess. Winter tensed half a second before he reached her. Grabbing Winter’s elbow, he yanked back the red hood. Scarlet gasped. Her knees weakened. The man stared at Winter with a mixture of confusion and disappointment and maybe even anger, all locked up in eyes so vividly green that Scarlet could see them glowing from here. She was the one hallucinating now. She took a stumbling, uncertain step forward. Wanting to run toward him, but terrified it was a trick. Her hand tightened around the knife handle as Wolf, ignoring how Winter was trying to pull away, grabbed her arm and smelled the filthy red sleeve of Scarlet’s hoodie, streaked with dirt and blood. He growled, ready to tear the princess apart. “Where did you get this?” So desperate, so determined, so him. The knife slipped out of Scarlet’s hand. Wolf’s attention snapped to her. “Wolf?” she whispered. His eyes brightened, wild and hopeful. Releasing Winter, he strode forward. His tumultuous eyes scooped over her. Devoured her. When he was in arm’s reach, Scarlet almost collapsed into him, but at the last moment she had the presence of mind to step back. She planted a hand on his chest. Wolf froze, hurt flickering across his face. “I’m sorry,” said Scarlet, her voice teetering with exhaustion. “It’s just…I smell so awful, I can hardly stand to be around myself right now, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you with your sense of sm-“ Batting her hand away, Wolf dug his fingers into Scarlet’s hair and crushed his mouth against hers. Her protests died with a muffled gasp. This time, she did collapse, her legs unable to hold her a second longer. Wolf fell with her, dropping his knees to break Scarlet’s fall and cradling her body against his. He was here. He was here.

manusia yang sering memiliki pertanyaan-pertanyaan tidak mungkin memiliki sebuah jawapan yang tepat melainkan keraguan yang tercipta daripada akal (Perjalanan 22)

Strange, isn't it, that it's always more difficult to talk people out of killing each other than into it?

It is easy to kill. It is equally easy to destroy glass windows. Any fool can do either. Why is it only the wise who perceive that it is wisdom to let live, when even lunatics can sometimes understand that it is better to open a window than to smash the glass?

A nation which fails to adequately remember salient points of its own history, is like a person with Alzheimer's. And that can be a social disease of a most destructive nature.

History repeats itself. As do the methods used by those specializing in the elimination of leaders who unite people into a strong force for dignity, justice and self-determination.

When you're in a show, all through rehearsals Tech Week hovers out there like a magical holy grail. In reality, Tech Week is always a train wreck of missed cues, forgotten lines, malfunctioning set pieces and short tempers.

Stress" is mostly the result of not being allowed to kill some asshole you really want to slice and dice.

I think we’re all just searching for someone to accept us the way we are, love us the way we are.

How could a little nick control something I had no control over? It wasn’t until he wiped it clean and applied a band-aid that the physical pain of the cut took hold, but I didn’t even care. That was a minimal price to pay in order to lessen the internal pain.

There was a brief moment of nothing, but when a ribbon of blood appeared, something I never expected happened. For the first time in five days, the constricting force around me lessened a bit. I took a deep breath. It wasn’t as bad as usual. It was like the awful pain inside of me was seeping out through that tiny cut.

Dying is as natural as being born, and all of us have to face it someday. Some sooner than others. It's difficult to understand the meaning of it all. The question isn't, 'Why do we die?' The correct question is, 'Why do we live?

We matter greatly and not at all. To reach some pinnacle of human achievement only to discover that your achievements are next to nothing and that to understand this is the greatest achievement of any life, which itself is nothing, and also much more than everything. Some metal separates us from the void; death is so close. Life is everywhere, everywhere.sm

So what, you assumed you’d show up before the dance and I’d magically be ready to go? I need warning to get beautiful.

You’re much nicer after you’ve had a near-death experience. You should almost die more often.

Luck was a lesser-spirit that only the lazy and the foolish prayed to.

Sometimes, impossible just means you have to try harder. -Kara

Sacredness grew like a pearl, sometimes around the most unlikely bits of grit.

Manusia tidak harus menjadi pulau. Tetapi sebahagian pergerakan manusia ke arah pencapaian strata kehidupan yang lebih tinggi dan baik akan membentuk mereka ke arah pulau-pulau yang sepi.

He smiled, looking into the flames. "He used to sleep on the foot of my bed, bad breath and gas and all, and I even took him hunting." "It's odd to take a dog hunting?" "Max? Yeah, sort of like taking along a brass band. He saved a lot of deer from death.

Sandra was fond of an old Russian saying: When a man causes you a problem, remember: no man, no problem.

The world goes on, boy, desptie how desperately we may want it to stop for just a moment so that we can catch our breath.

Getting shot was an experience that Elise ranked on the “unpleasantness” scale right around “trying to survive a week without coffee.

Truth is a ladder of many rungs, and that from each we gain a new perspective?″

Gold is cold, and men who possess much of it are infected with its chill.

The result was unreal. The most incredible feeling came over me. Weightlessness. Like the vise that engulfed me had evaporated. There was no more tightness. I could breathe freely. My head didn’t hurt. My stomach didn’t hurt. After a few moments, the only thing that hurt was the cut on my arm. I sat there and closed my eyes, reveling in the physical pain that was a hundred times easier to handle than what I had been dealing with.

Humanity has a limited biological capacity for change but an unlimited capacity for spiritual change. The only human institution incapable of evolving spiritually is a cemetery.” S.M. Tomlinson, One Fathom Above Sea Level

Being ignorant is truly bliss compared to being misinformed, especially if you’re aware of the depths of your own ignorance. As Mother says, it isn’t what you don’t know that will kill you, it’s what you think you know that just isn’t so.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I can’t promise a future or that I’ll be some sniveling boyfriend who pines away after you once I go back to L.A. But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes. “I can promise you that I’m going to take you to new heights that you’ve never imagined. That I’ll make you feel pleasure so intense that you forget your name. I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy. “If you let me, Tori, I’ll open up a whole new world to you. I’ll make you fly.

There may be a worse form of government than theocracy in the long run, but offhand I can't think of any.

Manure grew the fodder for the cow that made that ice cream and fertilized the beets that gave us the sugar, my girl," Juniper said sternly. "Earth must be fed or we all go hungry.

You can be afraid, and you’re allowed to feel stuck…you just can’t stay there. You have to keep going until you see what’s on the other side of that fear.

the closer i get to the end, the more i find myself wanting to go back to the beginning.

Because nothing says friendship like being willing to murder on your behalf, right?

It doesn't stop being magic because you can you explain it, Father.

Be your own judge. But commit no trespass, remembering that where another's liberty begins your own inevitably meets its boundary.

When she released him, James looked stunned. “Still?” She suppressed a swell of sadness. “Always.

You’ve taken so many drugs that you couldn’t legally operate a pair of safety scissors.

pain eventually ends, one way or another, she used to say. Either it heals, or it scars over and makes you tough enough to not notice it anymore.

I’m serious. We’re exclusive. Monogamous. Whatever damn label you want to put on it. You’re mine. And I don’t share what’s mine, Olivia.

In this lifetime and in every other.

MARIA MADE A LIST of things she would never do. She would never: walk through the Sands or Caesar’s alone after midnight. She would never: ball at a party, do S-M unless she wanted to, borrow furs from Abe Lipsey, deal. She would never: carry a Yorkshire in Beverly Hills.

Grief is the tribute we pay the dead," she said, matter-of-fact sympathy in her voice. "But they don't ask more than we can afford to give. They've never really gone from us, you know, those we love; they're part of our story, and we of theirs.

Fucking just tell me what you want and I'll go with it. That's what you do when you do s/m scenes. You discuss rules beforehand. 'Cause otherwise it's all too dangerous and there has to be trust. Well, it's the same, for me, with vanilla sex or without sex. If you don't discuss the rules, then the shit power games are outside the bed and they hurt. I'm truly no longer interested in either hurting or being hurt. It's all boring and I want to work in this world and to matter. I no longer want my time occupied by hurting and being hurt.

Come on Jess, you can do this.  You’ve seen all of Star Trek.  This is first contact, what would Kirk do?  Actually, scratch that, Kirk would probably fuck him.  What would Picard do?  That’s much safer.

• There was a brief moment of nothing, but when a ribbon of blood appeared, something I never expected happened. For the first time in five days, the constricting force around me lessened a bit. I took a deep breath. It wasn’t as bad as usual. It was like the awful pain inside of me was seeping out through that tiny cut.

We've been down the road of your hasty exits too many times, Mrs. Danvers. You married your master, and you married a sadist--of your own free will. You might remember that when you're tempted to walk out in a huff, defy my orders, and behave like a selfish brat. You got that?

Jess." He whispers. "That was far from manhandling you sweetheart. I'm just claiming what I want, and make no mistake," He places tender kisses along my jaw leading down to my neck. "I. Always. Get. What. I. Want." He breathes in between kisses. "You would do pretty well to remember that." -Max Wild

kau menjadi bakawali di hatiku kembang pada malam saat bulan tersenyum aku - di pasir memohon untuk menjadi pantai kepada lautmu.

Against fashion, even tyrants struggle in vain, she thought.

Sure it is that They have many faces. All the shapes the Divine shows us are true; and none are all the Truth.

What about nightmares? Have you experienced sexual dreams of a dark nature?

We had to become other than we were, or cease to be at all,

Perhaps this was simply how the world was, no matter what? An endless trading of places between the oppressors and the oppressed?

if one of us is going to volunteer to run into a terrifying abyss of darkness and death, then it goes without saying that we all will.

S/M is about emotion, the erotic tension between my impulse toward something and my resistance against it.

God is the greatest of artists! How good of Him to give us this world, and the change to imitate Him by bettering it. Wryly: If only we did not mar it, and ourselves, so often!

God is no respecter of either persons or names - Dieu or Gott or Kyrie or Adonai or Wakantanka. He is the Great Spirit whose pity we ask.

But then they were males, and therefore idiots about some things.

Myths are lies; but I believe in the power of myths the way I believe in rocks.

. . . you should always kick a man when he's down. It's much easier then.

Her lip curled in annoyance. Not only had he shown up here and insisted on barging into her room, but he had also decided to look even better than usual while he did it. The audacity.

Mackenzies buried a rapist at a crossroads, with a spear thrust in the soil above; and they buried him living when they could, as a sacrifice to turn aside the anger of the Earth Powers.

E lo baciò. Fu un gesto misurato, sorprendentemente casto. Un bacio trattenuto non dalla timidezza, ma dal timore di far male. La lingua non guizzò neppure tra le loro labbra. Tuttavia fu anche l’atto più erotico che Sapphire avesse mai subito in vita sua.

Never talk to them when they’re human, or they’ll trick you. You’ll get confused and sympathetic. That was what his mom always said. She was probably right. Last time he talked to a werewolf, he ended up dating her.

Because those events are so real that they cast their shadow forward and backwards through all time, whenever men think of these matters at all. Even if they are mired in ignorace, they will see...fragments of the Truth, as men imprisoned in a cave see shadows cast by the sun. Likewise, all men derive their moral intuitions from God; how not? There is no other source, just as there is no other way to make a wheel than to make it round.

... and he kills without fear, or anger, or hate, with regret even, simply because its necessary. That's rare, and it's rare still among the really first-rate. God help the enemy that finally frightens him or makes him mad.

Aloneness – that is what SM feels like to me. Isolated, alone, separated, left out as I silently stand by watching others experience life while the words freeze inside me, afraid to speak up or join in a conversation. Actually feeling the anxiety shaking inside my chest as I try to get up the courage to speak to someone or call or text a friend. SM feels like the child standing alone behind the door watching the other kids in the playground – afraid to ask, 'may I play?' It feels like the teenager standing silently against the wall, listening to classmates laugh and chat, invisible to everyone and wondering what it would be like to have a friend. It feels like the 50-year-old office worker, alone in her cube while others chat and laugh in the aisle, still left out. I live inside a shell, a mask that looks like me, but isn't me. I am in here, but it is really hard to let others see. I'm so grateful for the few dear friends I have now. Most people, though, only see the shell and assume I'm aloof and uncaring because I am quiet. I feel very deeply. I feel others' joy and pain intensely, yet they rarely know. I'm not quiet because I am uncaring. I'm silent because I'm afraid.

... adults with SM are significantly more likely than the general population to develop other mood- and anxiety-related conditions, most notably depression, generalised anxiety, panic disorder, social anxiety and PTSD. For some, chronic mental health conditions are a factor in their lives. Most indicated that they felt their long-term mental health conditions could have been avoided with appropriate support at the appropriate time in childhood.

Likes to fight, does he?" Sandra said thoughtfully. "Oh, yeah. He says there are only two reasons to fight." "Which are?" "Joy and death." Her mother's brows went up. "Joy in death?" "No, no... For joy, to stretch yourself with a friend; or death, to kill as quickly as you can. Nothing in between.

Have I told you today how beautiful you are?" I stand there, taken by surprise at his words. I am speechless so I mutely shake my head. He places his hands at my jaw line while he slowly runs his thumbs over my cheekbones. Then he looks into my eyes and says, "You are the most beautiful thing I keep in my heart. ~Ian

It was hard, to be stripped of the cold comforts of her simple atheistic faith in middle-age. The more so as the evidence seemed to lead to the conclusion that all the religions were true, including the ones that flatly contradicted each other.

The Vagabond one told me what that clover symbol means. He said it represents the four primary roads you can take in life: happiness, hatred, success, and failure. They are balanced shoices, always intertwined with each other, and whichever of the four paths you take will lead you down another.

The others saw him as he stumbled down the stairs, bleeding from nose and ears and eyes an mouth. The sheathed form of the Sword lay across his palms. He met their eyes, and choked out: "Remember. Remember, all of you." Mathilda's voice was infinitely gentle. "Remember what?" "That I was a man, before I was King. Remember for me, when I forget. His hand closed on the black double-lobed hilt, and the moonfire in the opal glowed. He drew the Sword, thrust it high. And screamed as pain beyond all bearing ripped through him like white fire, turning his body to a thing of ash smoke. He screamed, and knew.

Yes, she loved the Lord and Lady in Their many forms . . . but those forms spanned the universe of space and time that sprang from Them, and They could be as terrible as the fiery death of suns, as inexorable as Time. A mother's kiss on her child's face came from Them, but so also the glaciers that grind continents to dust.

(Dennis says) "Hey, you're playing confuse-the-unbeliever again. I have never been able to get a straight answer on whether you guys have two deities or dozens, taken from any pantheon you feel like mugging in a theological dark alley. Which is it? Number one or number two?" "Yes," Juniper said, with all the other coven members joining in to make a ragged chorus...

In 1879 the Bengali scholar S.M. Tagore compiled a more extensive list of ruby colors from the Purana sacred texts: ‘like the China rose, like blood, like the seeds of the pomegranate, like red lead, like the red lotus, like saffron, like the resin of certain trees, like the eyes of the Greek partridge or the Indian crane…and like the interior of the half-blown water lily.’ With so many gorgeous descriptive possibilities it is curious that in English the two ancient names for rubies have come to sound incredibly ugly.

I think gender can take a lesson from sadomasochism (S/M): gender needs to be safe, sane, and consensual. Gender is not safe. If i change my gender, I'm at risk of homocide, suicide or a life devoid of half my responsibilities. If I'm born with a body that gives mixed gender signals, I'm at risk of being butchered - fixed, mutilated. Gender is not safe. And gender is not sane. It's not sane to call a rainbow black and white. It's not sane to demand we fit into one or the other only. It's not sane that we classify people in order to oppress them as women or glorify them as men. Gender is not sane. And gender is not consensual. We're born: a doctor assigns us a gender. It's documented by the state, enforced by the legal profession, sanctified by the church, and it's bought and sold in the media. We have no say in our gender - we're not allowed to question it, play with it, work it out with our friends, lovers or family. Gender is not consensual. Safe gender is being who and what we want to be when we want to be that, with no threat censure or violence. Safe gender is going as far in an direction as we wish with not threats to our health, or to anyone else's. Safe gender is not being pressured into passing, not having to lie, not having to hide. Sane gender is asking questions about gender - talking to people who do gender and opening up about our gender histories and our gender desires. Sane gender is probably very, very funny. Consensual gender is respecting each others definitions of gender , and respecting the intentions of others to be inclusive in their own time. Consensual gender is non violent in that it doesn't force its way in on anyone. Consensual gender opens its arms and welcomes all people as gender outcasts - whoever is willing to admit to it. Gender has a lot to learn from S/M.

It should not be a surprise to find that s/m fantasy is significant in women's sex lives. Women may be born free but they are born into a system of subordination. We are not born into equality and do not have equality to eroticise. We are not born into power and do not have power to eroticise. We are born into subordination and it is in subordination that we learn our sexual and emotional responses. It would be surprising indeed if any woman reared under male supremacy was able to escape the forces constructing her into a member of an inferior slave class.