5
" To have them putting him on, trying him on, trying him out while he himself puts them on like a sock over a foot onto the stub of himself--his extra sensitive thumb, his tentacle, his delicate, stalked slug's eye which extrudes, expands, winces and shrivels back into himself when touched wrongly, grows big again. Bulging a little at the tip, traveling forward as if along a leaf into them, avid for vision. To achieve vision in this way; this journey into a darkness that is composed of women--a woman--who can see in darkness while he himself strains blindly forward. "
― Margaret Atwood
6
" All kidding aside…” I focus back on Pyke, genuine sincerity in my tone.
“Thank you…for everything. For dragging my ‘clueless ass’ through the ocean, and
over hill and vale, when you knew it was futile and stupid—but that I’d still try to do it, with or without your help. Thanks for tracking me down when I was alone and helpless; and for giving me a voice when I thought all hope was lost—”
“Ugh, for crying out loud…Enough already,” Pyke squirms, a nauseated
grimace twisting his hairy face. “Now you’re going way overboard with the
gratitude…That kind of gushy crap is meant to be dished out in small doses,” he gripes. “Please make it stop…before I have to snap my own neck, just to end the suffering.” He backs away into the crowd, giving Tristan’s shoulder one more slap with a sly wink. “Hurry up, Man, and do something. Kiss her, muzzle her…shove a sock in her mouth— "
― M.A. George , Aqua
8
" They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one. "
― Jeffrey Eugenides
11
" The children of the Fulcrum are all different: different ages, different colors, different shapes. Some speak Sanze-mat with different accents, having originated from different parts of the world. One girl has sharp teeth because it is her race's custom to file them; another boy has no penis, though he stuffs a sock into his underwear after every shower; another girl has rarely had regular meals and wolfs down every one like she's still starving. (The instructors keep finding food hidden in and around her bed. They make her eat it, all of it, in front of them, even if it makes her sick.) One cannot reasonably expect sameness out of so much difference, and it makes no sense for Damaya to be judged by the behavior of children who share nothing save the curse of orogeny with her. "
― N.K. Jemisin , The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1)
