Humans have a consciousness which emphasizes sexuality, perhaps because the origins of human consciousness are related to the origins of human sexuality.
– W. I. Thompson
She is the most beautiful
Among the flowers of the field
She is the greenest of the grasses
Among the flower carriers
She carries the finest flowers
In the finest arrangements
And her hair smells of praise
– Nathaniel Tarn
Her very walk revealed the goddess.
The idea of a sympathetic relationship between the potency of the king and the fertility of the land is supported by Irish texts which hint that the a king might be ritually married to the tutelary earth goddess of the tribe.
– J. Gantz
It is not lust but the beauty of innocence that captures lovers.
Virginal they may wish to be, but the worm in the dream is always the past, the impediment to all renewal.
– Philip Roth
She was not tall, but so boldly erect was her slim figure that she looked it…She danced, she spun, she whirled on an old Persian carpet thrown carelessly down at her feet, and each time she spun and her radiant face passed in front, her great black eyes flashed lightning.
Around her, all eyes were fixed and all mouths agape; and as she danced, to the drumming of the tambourine she held above her head in her two pure, round arms, slender, pale, quick as a wasp, with her golden, unpleated bodice, her billowing, brightly colored dress, her bare shoulders, her slender legs, uncovered now and again by her skirt, her black hair, her fiery eyes, she was indeed a supernatural creature.
Truly thought Gringoire, it’s a salamander, a nymph, a goddess, a bacchante from Mount Menelaus.
At that moment, one of the salamander’s plaits of hair came down and a yellow copper coin that had been fixed to it rolled to the ground.
Ha, no it’s not,
he said, it’s a gypsy girl!
All illusion had vanished.
She began dancing again.
– Victor Hugo
For Samuel, that leg was already the object of everlasting desire. Long, slender, strong, at once both fleshy and sinewy, it had all the correctness of beauty and all the carnal allure of prettiness.
Not with apples, or roses,
Or locks of hair, but with a frenzy.
For as the swift monster drags you deeper and deeper into the frantic shoal, you bid adieu to circumspect life and only exist in a delirious throb.
– Herman Melville