Book: Suffocation. Page 9

I mean: what could be better than sex?!
Even the most mediocre Blowjob will always be happier than the aroma of lovely roses or the contemplation of a beautiful sunset. Or hear the joyous laughter of children.
I'm sure even the best, most soulful poem still does not compare with the intoxicating, hot, explosive orgasm.
To paint, to compose the Opera - it is necessary something to do, until you turn up another person of the opposite sex, which is also very not mind.

The magic of sex is that it's acquisition without the burden of possession. No matter how many girls did you bring home, the problem with storage and warehousing is missing.

In a world where there is no God except mother - not a new God? Latest unseen an unreachable instance. Perhaps motherhood did not remain the last real magical miracle? But a miracle is impossible for men.

The child is not a dog to have. I mean, children live very long, bro.

Parenthood is the opiate of the people.

I just want to be needed by someone.
Desired and required. I need someone who I could give all of himself - all his spare time, all my attention and care. Someone dependent on me.
A mutual dependence.

It would NOT have been Jesus?

- You don't believe that I'm actually in the depths of a sensitive and Christlike manifestation of absolute love?
- Hell to the no, bro - meets Danny. - You're an asshole.
And I say:
Thank you. Just wanted to check.

People willing through the Hoop jump, he just let me feel God.

We no longer live in the real world. We live in a world of conventions.