Although Earth's rate of spin is gradually slowing because of the tidal drag of the moon, the slowing would have been measurably greater if it were not for the influence of 88 reservoirs built since the early 1950's

In those days it was taken for granted that the upward mobility of middle-class Americans extended to cultural matters, and that anyone, educated or not, could appreciate highbrow art so long as it was presented in an accessible and engaging way.

I like the fact that you’re not mad about me,
I like the fact that I’m not mad for you,
And that the globe of planet earth is grounded
And will not drift away beneath our shoes.

What do you hope for, in this walk of life, when looking at the long term? To find Mr. Right?

I sincerely believe there would be much less dishonesty in a world where divorce laws couldn't be used to abuse the partner. If partners (men or women) knew they could walk away from a relationship with a fair deal, and not have their spouse use the courts to abuse them and drag out the suffering, most would probably end things when they realized they couldn't keep their promise of monogamy.

I sincerely believe there would be much less dishonesty in a world where divorce laws couldn't be used to abuse the partner. If partners (men or women) knew they could walk away from a relationship with a fair deal, and not have their spouse use the courts to abuse them and drag out the suffering, most would probably end things when they realized they couldn't keep their promise of monogamy.

Music halls with
walls dripping history
and wallpaper equall

Writer of Eat, Pray, Love (Elizabeth Gilbert) discusses how talented people are undone by their gifts. She explores the horror an artist or creative mind experiences when they’re faced with the daunting perception that their greatest work is already behind them.

The sailors of his ship had made a rubber woman for themselves to while away the time and satisfy the desires they felt during their six or seven months at sea. The woman had been beautifully made and gave them a perfect illusion.

I'm nervous for him! I don't know why.

Poetry
Mississippi

Mississippi nights,
jazz, getting lost in the vapor
the bad magic.

In these hiccups
of time

"Why do you always look away?"

"They employed crossword enthusiasts as code breakers during the Second World War! Crossword enthusiats?" I looked up from the pages of my book, tipping my head to the side like a confused pup.

"They employed crossword enthusiasts as code breakers during the Second World War! Crossword enthusiats?" I looked up from the pages of my book, tipping my head to the side like a confused pup.

She looks to her right, into the dense gathering of vegetation. The forest seemed pleasant enough. Not the dark foreboding that hid wolves and witches wating to prey on little girls. The canopy of trees towered above her, and all around, sunlight spilling in through the break in the trees. With little more than a fleeting thought she wandered into the woods. There are no thistles, thorns or thick weeds to warn her that she's gone too far. Her bare feet feel soothed by the moist softness of thick cool moss she continued on deeper.

She spins her web. She can’t help it. Not quite instinct, not quite conscious thought. It is her nature.

I sit in the backyard on a beautiful September morning...

He felt the tell-tale quivering of her inner thighs; felt her fingers entwined in his hair; felt her heels pressing hard into his back; felt her thighs scissoring his neck and head as her spasms began.

They were alone at last, and her hands began to quiver. Afraid to look at him, unable to meet his eyes, she walked to the window. The small talk continued. Her fingers found the curtains, absently petting the soft fabric to distract from their trembling. Eyes fixed outside, she heard him approach.

Something is different
Legs wrapped about his
waist and eyes
glowing so brightly
I must look away

Alabaster skin turned golden by scented, oiled water and candles' glow.

Tangle fingers
mercilessly
into copper strands

Our connection is so powerful, to be genuine, I have to write to you. I've had had these thoughts rolling around in my head for a while, hoping they would magically arrange themselves into a nice neat note, but alas I am a simple man. Not being a writer, the only voice in my head is first person.

Ocular aqua gems
trickling alone
in darkness
where no sounds
leak in
harsh moans
muffled in damp down

And so a while I ago I realized that I loved you in my own way and from a distance, whatever that means. And mostly it means that I relate to you, in my own head, differently than I relate to anyone else.

Back burnered, I simmer
Slowly heating

. . . for sharing your pleasure with me this morning

What was said to the rose that made it open
was said to me here in my chest

The world is full of women
who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself
if they had the chance. Quit dancing.
Get some self-respect
and a day job.

What are your strengths and weaknesses?
To a great extent, my strengths bleed into my weaknesses. I am intensely passionate, though to a great extent, this side of my nature is internalized as I am never sure how it will translate in the minds of other people. I can be lost in thought for hours, swept away by the simple beauty. This makes my creative career and hobbies a way of life. The internalizing of my intensity leaves me lost for words.

It is the moment when a lover covers your lips with the delicate touch of their fingers, muting words. Their whispered touch saying, Let me have this moment!

I TOUCH your mouth, I touch the edge of your mouth with my finger, I am drawing it as if it were something my hand was sketching, as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and all I have to do is close my eyes to erase it and start all over again...

The main character, a scholarly old man, is celebrating his birthday by seeking an adolescent virgin. The madame answers: "The only Virgos left in the world are people like you who were born in August."

The thick brush slid along her jaw line, a fragile nervous face disappearing under geisha white. Subtle contours and familiar shadows melted into a blank canvas awaiting transformation.

If two submissives sat on the bed together, what would happen?

The baring of crosses
Ancient pains
As old as Adam
For all, in all walks
Fate can grant
No living heart mercy

Lady: I've been bad.

Master: Patience is a virtue and no sassy responses, please.

L: I prefer my vices.

M: I see we need significant and extended obedience training my pet. Meditate on your sins.

My dear
Silly you
She wants to put make up on you
Then lick it off

Palette
Collar Bone
Thighs
Neck

How do I rid my mind of thoughts of one so exquisite so as to fall aslee without you?

Past quarreling children coming down off sugar rushes, and frustrated parents panting under heat exhaustion and the weight of their children's luggage. Even for them the place was loosing its whimsy and she began to regard is as the naval of hell that was reality. Still they had one last stop and made their way towards another famed classic: The Mad Tea Party.

In honour of every unbirthday party she had ever thrown, and every white rabbit she had chased, they would have to visit the dizzying tea cup!