Chloe Thurlow Quotes

Chloe Thurlow Quotes

Between the lines of every book the writer reveals their own secrets.

When it happens it happens instantly. It's like diving into a pool of warm silky water, like flying through the air on invisible wings, like shedding an old skin and growing a new one. When you fall in love the spirals of your DNA unwind and rewind in the opposite direction. What was black becomes white.

The quest of the alchemists to turn lead into gold is a metaphor for our attempts to turn the base metal of ourselves, that person hooked on consumerism, filled with angst and ambition, into the gold of what we can be and really are.

Relationships are nine parts intuition, one part madness.

The best way to get over one man is to go down on another.

I love book books, real books, books with spines and heart, dust jackets, books that smell of books. Take the frame from a painting and you have a painting, not art. Take the pages from a book and print them on a screen and you have the ghost of a book. Not a book.

Time passes quickly while you are travelling, slowly while you are waiting, making time a mental construct we live by as if it is some axiomatic truth, which it is not. The tides are moved by the moon. Nature progresses by seasons. The animals by instinct. Only man is wedded to his own invention – and impediment – the clock.

Time neither flies nor sleeps. It is flexible, plastic, ever changing. Spend two hours watching a movie curled up with your lover and time ceases to exist. Spend two hours waiting for your lover to come and time is the iron bars of a prison

Reading releases you from the limits of yourself.

When you lose yourself in a book the hours grow wings and fly.

Beauty lies between the erotic and the tragic.

Inner beauty is never found in the mirror.

Beauty is a burden as well as a gift. Beauty puts other women on edge. It torments men. Man is born adoring beauty and carries, just below the surface, a predisposition, a gut feeling, that beauty should be profaned and destroyed. The first thing conquering armies do is burn the library and rape the virgins.

Beauty everywhere and in everything. Beauty hides sometimes; it is invisible sometimes, like the air we breathe. But it is there if you look hard enough and want to find it.

Today is a black day. Tomorrow it may be white. You may look beautiful one day, and not the next. It is not only a matter of other people's perceptions, it's about our own perceptions. We constantly change. Every day our hair grows, our nails grow, we grow older. Everything ends.

Sex exists in the now without past or future. If, for a single second, your minds drifts back to the past or forwards into the unknown, the moment withers like a dead plant and the passage of pleasure turns to a road of dust.

When you remove love from sex you enter a mansion with many rooms shaded in nuance and excess, an invitation to peel away all conventions and programming. A chance to explore your hidden self. You shed something and clothe yourself in something else. Sex is the greatest of gifts. Orgasm a glimpse of perfection.

After making love there is nothing like making love, slowly, idly, like walking without a destination, or swimming in a warm sea.

Art in order to move you has to be political or sexual - whether it is on canvas, in the drum of the cello, in the words of the poet. If it doesn't move you, what is the point? And if it does move you, what is the point? The point is to touch your senses, your soul. To carve, as a knife in the right hands, carves beauty from a block of wood.

We discover the depths of our humanity when we let go of reality and enter the realm of the senses.

When you cut the cords on the safety net and walk out on the highwire, you become yourself and become all that you can be and all that you were meant to be. But first, you must cut the cords.

Somewhere, incredible things are happening. The trick is, not to go out and find where those things are happening, but to go out and make them happen.

We have no obligation other than to be ourself. Your friends, your family, the daily beat of life will shape you into a form pleasing to them. Your job is to make something pleasing to you. As soon as a crowd forms, leave it.

Literature is the question without the answer. Philosophy is the answer without the question.

I had avoided writing about love. I had never sensed that rush and buzz that comes with love, the release into the brain of body chemicals, pheromones and dopamine - the taste of love to which I was becoming addicted, his spearminty tongue when we kissed, his male sweat, the outdoor vanilla tang of his semen.

Love and being in love are not the same thing. The woman takes the man she loves into her body and absorbs his oils and essence. A part of him enters her and becomes a part of her.

Is this love? The light looks different. Actually the shade looks different. I feel different. Everything is just so different I don't know where to begin...

Love enters us like a vague ailment. Your head spins. Your underarms tingle. Love hurts and love has consequences: marriage, babies, separation, longing, human complications.

I understood how strangers met and fell into bed, not how they met and fell in love. I wasn't sure what falling in love meant. The very notion seemed so corny, so arbitrary, so fragile.

Love is a noun as well as a verb, a treacherous construct.

What is love? Imagine a helium balloon tied down and then you cut the ropes on a windy day. That is love.

I was besieged by a yearning, a craving, a burning desire. My heart had opened like one of those mysterious flowers that only bloom at night.

The way the leaves on the trees tremble in the passing air is the way love reaches you, from all directions at once, mysterious, overwhelming, indescribable. To be in love is to find something you didn't know was missing.

I was always in love with love and now I am in love. In love, everything looks different. Everything tastes different. It is as if you have been reborn, transformed, become another person whom you don't completely recognise.

There is a sense that we are waiting for something, that however wonderful something is, there is something else waiting to tempt us; however perfect someone is, someone else might be better, more suitable, more fun, better in bed. Whatever road you chose you may just have easily chosen another.

If you add the shadow of death to a moment of passion you are in that instant free of all normal ties, your mind grows still and your body enters a state of non-being.

To realise your ambitions, you must take a few minutes each day to meditate on your ultimate goal, not doing anything, just thinking about it. You must try to imagine how you will feel when you achieve your dreams, and that feeling is like a memo in the mind reminding your subconscious to stay the course.

The future is trapped in a cage opened only by the key of genius.

It is in the nest of disappointment where depression lays its eggs.

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