#home

After soft kisses, they pressed their hands together palm to palm. The tingling scattered all over Livia's body, warming her. "Do you feel that?" she whispered with a smile. His lips moved in his silent count. Blake wrapped his fingers around her hand. She copied the movement. Their hands together now resembled a heart-not a cartoon rendering of the shape, but a real human heart. He touched her lips with his and murmured, "I've been feeling it since you first smiled at me. ↗

— Debra Anastasia

#debra-anastasia #homeless #love #poughkeepsie #love

I'm good at blowjob. ↗

— Lauren Baker

#erotic #finding-home #funny-humor #sex #funny

Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter, worthy of Kubla Khan's Xanadu dome; Plushy and swanky, with posh hanky panky that affluent Yankees can really call home. Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter, a push-button palace, fluorescent repose; Electric devices for facing a crisis with frozen fruit ices and cinema shows. Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter all chromium kitchens and rubber-tiled dorms; With waterproof portals to echo the chortles of weatherproof mortals in hydrogen storms. What a great come-to-glory emporium! To enjoy a deluxe moratorium, Where nuclear heat can beguile the elite in a creme-de-la-creme crematorium. ↗

— Yip Harburg

#rich #home

But you don't know what it was like. It was just the two of us that afternoon, and then . . . and then it was just me. ↗

— Carol Rifka Brunt

#home

Back home, my favorite part of Mass was during communion, when I'd stand at the rail and hold a little gold platter under people's chins. The pretty girls would line up for communion (I confess to Almighty God). They'd kneel (and to you my brothers and sisters), cast their eyes demurely down (I have sinned through my own fault), and stick out their tongues (in my thoughts and in my words). Their tongues would shine, reflected in the gold platter, and since the wafer was dry, the girls would maybe lick their lips (and I ask Blessed Mary ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you my brothers and sisters) before they swallowed (to pray for me to the Lord our God). It was all I could do not to pass out. ↗

— Rob Sheffield

#religion #home

We came around the corner and stood in the doorway of what looked like a paint-testing ground. This was where we proved once and for all that we were good loving parents. We decided to let him live. "What is painting doing in my best Tupperware bowl?" I yelled. "Well, I needed something lightweight I could carry around with me," he began. "You've been carrying around a brain for year," the boy's father said. ↗

— Sylvia Harney

#home-disasters #humor #parents #sarcasm #home

There are three trips you take to India: the one you think you’re going to have – that you plan for; the one you actually have; and the one you live through once you go back home. ↗

— Erin Reese

#travel #home

Die Wirkung eines solchen Hauses auf seinen Besitzer ist unverkennbar. […] Es ist ein gegenseitiger Austausch von Würde, Bedeutung und Kraft, und jegliche Schönheit (oder deren Mangel) spinnt ständig wie ein hin und her sausendes Weberschiffchen von einem zum anderen geheime Fäden. Man schneide die Fäden durch, trenne den Menschen von dem, was von Rechts wegen sein Eigen und bezeichnend für ihn ist, und was zurück bleibt, ist ein seltsames Wesen, halb Erfolg und halb Versagen, wie die Spinne ohne Netz, das nie mehr sein wird, was es war, wenn ihm nicht alle seine Würden und Einkünfte zurück gegeben werden. ↗

— Theodore Dreiser

#home

Every walk carves out a new city. And each of these tiny cities has its main square, a downtown area all its own, its own memorial statue, its own landmarks, laundromats, bus terminal—in short, its own focal point (from the Latin word focus, meaning fireplace, hearth, foyer, home), warm spot, sweet spot, soft spot, hot spot. ↗

— André Aciman

#home

I don't need new boots I got bluchers back down home. Eff the effing bluchers I'll buy you new adjectival effing elastic sided boots. ↗

— Peter Carey

#profanity #home