Girls don't want men to be quiet and gentle, I'm told. If you're not panting with impatient lust they think you're not interested.

Christ, I loathe women. But I can't get going on the other tack either. And you needn't blush and look coy, I never fancied you. I know what you got up to with Fritzie Eitel! No—but I'd have had old Wilfred if he'd asked me. What did old Wilfred do for sex? No one ever knew. Perhaps he didn't have any, and if so good on him.

You don't know what it is to want a man, any man. I wish I could discover some respectable male prostitutes, like civil servants or university dons who do it in their spare time for a bit of pocket money, there must be such people.

It is the long still moment of dreamy suspended passion before the spinning clutching descent.

Sex comes to most of us with a twist.

There is nothing like early promiscuous sex for dispelling life's bright mysterious expectations.