That is your trick, your bit of filthy magic: invisibility, and the anaesthetic power to deaden my attention in your direction.

Sex is our deepest form of consciousness. It is utterly non-ideal, non-mental. It is pure blood-consciousness.... It is the consciousness of the night, when the soul is almost asleep.

She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.

And all the time she felt the reflection of his hopelessness in her. She couldn't quite, quite love in hoplessness. And he, being hopeless, couldn't ever love at all.

There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.

there is no pornography without a secrecy.

And that is how we are. By strength of will we cut off our inner intuitive knowledge from admitted consciousness. This causes a state of dread, or apprehension, which makes the blow ten times worse when it does fall.