Who Said It: Hedonistic Will Ferrell Character Roger Klarvin or Pulitzer Prize–Winning Historian Richard Rhodes? by DoyleE

"That evening, Virginia and I made love so powerful methinks I heard the god Zeus chuckling from on high."

"We made love naked in the warm spring rain on the new grass beside a battery of Nike-Zeus missiles that shouldered toward heaven like a quiver of Cupid's darts."

"For three glorious days I handfed my lover plump strawberries and smoked duck meat. She purred and giggled under the weight of my thrusting body, her mouth agape with a mixture of pleasure, longing, and duck meat."

"I brought gourmet box lunches that we ate at her round dining table in the alcove outside her bedroom, her water bed waiting beyond the open door. The water bed anchored her hips; when we made love on it I felt as if I were plunging into the solid earth."

"She raised her knees and pliéd. A nest, delicate small wings. I slipped my hands under her buttocks, like raising a deep, refreshing bowl."

"[A]lthough the waters above appear calm, below the surface there is a frenzy of activity: hands groping, fingers fluttering, thighs twitching in the anticipation of lovemaking that will take place in this hot tub in less than twelve minutes."

"I lowered myself back into the warm water and we returned to nesting together, playing her hand spray across our bodies, dissolving into a languor that the cats eventually penetrated with their inquisitive meows."

"I told her I liked her cats, which I did, liked them watching. They reminded me that the room where we lay naked together was a provincial outpost of Eden, as much of Eden as we would ever know."

"I tell you, Marguerite, the drumbeat possessed my soul as I smeared myself with pork grease, fashioned a crude thong out of my adult-size Hanes underwear, and danced like my ancient tribal ancestors."

"Somewhere in the distance, we heard the pounding of native drums. Was it in our minds? We don't know."

"Increasingly I'm inside my body, my consciousness compressed, my pelvic basin a collapsing shell, imploding."

"The most effective technique I discovered for delaying orgasm was mentally reciting the Gettysburg Address, which I'd memorized in high school. The recitation didn't always work. My brain would extract volumes of juice from Lincoln's seemingly dry and proper text, resourcefully squeezing out the hidden metaphors and sluicing me back to erotic reality again. The onanistic spill or paternal birth ecstasy of 'Our fathers brought forth upon this continent' was particularly treacherous to navigate."