we are made of sundry pleasures stolen to quaff a lusty measure while we weep for
something more this world is more
than seductive it’s murderously addictive so sweet and delicious have we become we are killers of our sacred pleasures and everything is pleasure and
pure pleasure is insanity it’s the high
on high euphoric that salves the mind and
frees the soul you cannot buy such thrills you must pocket them with scheming hands and
a knowing touch
the sweetness of love lies in the sharing of pleasure but the sweetest pleasures are hardest
won for in
the midst of joy there is despair and at the heart of pleasure there is pain toil
and fatigue destroys people and pleasure
restores them without desire we have
no function without pleasure we are mere automatons so
let us all pleasures prove for we are
sorcerers and gods in these fleeting moments
and we must relish our pleasures before the spectre of boredom turns us back into straw