Best 100 quotes in «consent quotes» category

If I am a pawn in someone else's chess game, you better believe I am going to demand an explanation before being shoved at some rook. I'll play my part, damn it, but I want the courtesy of being asked for my consent!

I felt numb, I felt empty. I was a shell, an abandoned chrysalis, a tomb lying in wait for the dead

I want to rewind the clock, take back the night when the world shattered. I want to erase everything that went wrong.

In accordance with the prevailing conceptions in the U.S., there is no infringement on democracy if a few corporations control the information system: in fact, that is the essence of democracy. In the Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, the leading figure of the public relations industry, Edward Bernays, explains that “the very essence of the democratic process” is “the freedom to persuade and suggest,” what he calls “the engineering of consent.” “A leader,” he continues, “frequently cannot wait for the people to arrive at even general understanding … Democratic leaders must play their part in … engineering … consent to socially constructive goals and values,” applying “scientific principles and tried practices to the task of getting people to support ideas and programs”; and although it remains unsaid, it is evident enough that those who control resources will be in a position to judge what is “socially constructive,” to engineer consent through the media, and to implement policy through the mechanisms of the state. If the freedom to persuade happens to be concentrated in a few hands, we must recognize that such is the nature of a free society.

In answer, he bent his head toward hers. "Wait." She ducked away from the kiss. "What are you doing?" "Nothing unless you want it.

I quit eating meat in 1976, the same year I turned fifteen, came out, and went to my first gay rights rally (not in that order). When I say that I 'came out,' I mean that I resolved to never lie about my love for women, never deliberately pass for straight, and never deny a lover by calling her 'him.' To do so, I felt, would be to betray not only the women I desired, but my deepest self. My decision to quit meat was equally simple. Somehow, through the confluence of midseventies influences, I knew that vegetarianism was a particularly healthy way to eat. One day, quite suddenly, I realized: If I didn't need to eat meat to stay alive, then eating meat was killing for pleasure. I couldn't live with myself, wouldn't be the nonviolent person I believed myself to be, if I killed other beings--beings who had their own desires--merely to satisfy my desire for the taste of their flesh. Looking back, I see that both decisions, coming out and quitting meat, are about the interplay of desire and integrity. Sometimes integrity means being true to your desires, and sometimes integrity requires you to refuse your desires. I also notice that both decisions were about bodies and consent. A primary tenet of gay liberation is that what consenting people do with each other's bodies is nobody else's business. And, of course, eating meat is something you do to somebody else's body without their consent.

I'm saying you should be careful. As careful as life and death, because that's what it is." She gives me a meaningful look. "And never trust the boy to bring the condom. A lady always brings her own." I cough. "Your body is yours to protect and enjoy." She raises both eyebrows at me meaningfully. "Whoever you should choose to partake in that enjoyment, that is your choice, and choose wisely. Every man that ever got to touch me was afforded an honor. A privilege." Stormy waves her hand over me. "All this? It's a privilege to worship at this temple, do you understand my meaning? Not just any young fool can approach the throne. Remember my words, Lara Jean. You decide who, how far, and how often, if ever.

Isn't love at least as important in life as money? And aren't the objects of the romantic and sexual fantasies of the masses as dependent upon society for their desirable status as surely as the super-rich are for their material wealth? If a billionaire like Bill Gates or Oprah Winfrey has to pay lots of money in taxes so that economically disadvantaged people's needs can be met, why shouldn't 'billionaires of love' like Pamela Anderson and Brad Pitt have to provide romantic walks on the beach and hot makeout sessions so that the needs of the romantically and sexually disadvantaged can likewise be met? Who are we as a society to judge that it is more wrong to force someone to be sexually intimate than to take their resources by force? The fact is that some people feel more violated by being robbed than by being groped. If we're going to have a redistributionist system based on aggression, wouldn't it be fairer, when Tax Day comes around, to at least give each victim a choice? 'Pay up or put out!

It is what it is because you allowed it to be so.

Margot thought: oh, no. But the thought of what it would take to stop what she had set in motion was overwhelming; it would require an amount of tact and gentleness that she felt was impossible to summon. It wasn't that she was scared he would try to force her to do something against her will but that insisting they stop now, after everything she'd done to push this forward, would make her seem spoiled and capricious, as if she'd ordered something at a restaurant and then, once the food arrived, had changed her mind and sent it back.

Maybe he was too drunk to hear me when I told him to stop. Maybe I didn’t say it loudly enough. Maybe I didn’t say it enough times.

Neither the devil nor the world, nor even our own evil heart can compel us to sin. It must be by our own consent and will.

No future triumph or metamorphosis can justify the pitiful blighting of a human being against his will.

No, I thought. No way. I love her too much. I would never do that. And then again, those two words, her voice, exploding inside my head: “Tyler, wait!

No man is good enough to govern any woman without her consent.

Now, whenever she thinks of it, she is confused about what she did and didn't cause. She is confused about desire, and her own desirability. She is confused about her own sexuality. It should be hers to wield as she wishes, she knows this, but why—even if she isn't wielding it, exactly, even if she's just being herself—is there the sense of a shameful invitation, or even an invitation at all? She knows she should be able to invite if she wants to invite, to say no if she wants to say no, yes if she wants to say yes, to allure or not allure, to just simply feel good about what her body is and does and how it looks. She is supposed to be sure and confident about those things, but how can she possibly be sure and confident about those things? There are so many colliding messages—confidence and shame, power and powerlessness, what she owes others and what is hers—that she can't hear what's true.

Now, whenever she thinks of it, she is confused about what she did and didn't cause. She is confused about desire, and her own desirability. She is confused about her own sexuality. It should be hers to wield as she wishes, she knows this, but why—even if she isn't wielding it, exactly, even if she's just being herself—is there the sense of a shameful invitation, or even an invitation at all? She knows she should be able to invite if she wants to invite, to say no if she wants to say no, yes if she wants to say yes, to allure or not allure, to just simply feel good about what her body is and does and how it looks.

Sometimes you must agree with someones opinion for the sake of being polite and modest, but within you, you know that you are not foolish and crazy.

Tell her that her body belongs to her and her alone, that she should never feel the need to say yes to something she does not want, or something she feels pressured to do. Teach her that saying no when no feels right is something to be proud of.

I think I’m owed consideration and pleasure. Otherwise what’s the point, but that's how consent works. I told you what I wanted and you agreed. You can say no. We can talk about it, we can negotiate. If we can't come to terms, we don't have to sleep together. It's that simple." (p. 192, Kindle Edition)

The decent man and the lover holds back even when he could obtain what he wishes. To win this silent consent is to make use of all the violence permitted in love. To read it in the eyes, to see it in the ways in spite of the mouth's denial, that is the art of he who knows how to love. If he then completes his happiness, he is not brutal, he is decent. He does not insult chasteness; he respects it; he serves it.

The Dream Maker is here by consent of every person who ever came here.

The girl I’d been just an hour ago was gone; she’d been obliterated. I had no idea who I was, now.

There are some wounds unreachable by words, some sins immune to apology.

The Red Pill solution to the false allegation problem is to create a society in which female consent is virtually meaningless, so that when a woman asserts that she has not consented, few will care.

This is what consent culture means. It means expecting more — demanding more. It means treating one another as complex human beings with agency and desire, not just once, but continually. It means adjusting our ideas of dating and sexuality beyond the process of prying a grudging “yes” out of another human being. Ideally you want them to say it again, and again, and mean it every time. Not just because it’s hotter that way, although it absolutely is; consent doesn’t have to be sexy to be centrally important. But because when you get down to it, sexuality should not be about arguing over what you can get away with and still call consensual.

The self-evident danger of this view is that it encourages the reader to think of female consent as a foregone conclusion once the pickup artist becomes sufficiently skilled.

They'll say you are bad or perhaps you are mad or at least you should stay undercover. Your mind must be bare if you would dare to think you can love more than one lover.

This revolutionary idea of Western citizenship—replete with ever more rights and responsibilities—would provide superb manpower for growing legions and a legal framework that would guarantee that the men who fought felt that they themselves in a formal and contractual sense had ratified the conditions of their own battle service. The ancient Western world would soon come to define itself by culture rather than by race, skin color, or language. That idea alone would eventually bring enormous advantages to its armies on the battlefield. (p. 122)

Unless you refuse the bad things happening to you, you will continue to suffer with your own consent!

We are learning to support girls as they 'lean in' educationally and professionally, yet in this most personal of realms, we allow them to topple. It's almost as if parents believe that if they don't tell their daughters that sex should feel good, they won't find out. And perhaps that's correct, they don't. Not easily anyway. But the outcome is hardly what adults could've hoped.

We seldom learn much from someone with whom we agree.

the man i went on a date with did more than try to "cure me" of my asexuality it's funny because i never thought someone's penis would be considered an antidote of any kind and i don't think that's what my doctor meant when he told me i needed more Vitamin D in my diet but apparently my sexuality was enough of a diagnosis for him to decide to play doctor with me maybe he should’ve put his stethoscope up to my mouth instead of between my breasts maybe then he would’ve heard me when i told him to stop it

Why can’t I have both? Haan? I want the consent part but I also want to be taken by surprise. How hard is that? What’s wrong with a girl wanting to be Goslinged and kissed, damn it!

To react is one's choice.

Without 'consent' in any human interactions, there's an ethical violation.

Young women today are sold the idea that sexiness is the same as sexuality, that being desirable is more important than understanding their own desires.

You kill by consent, every time you let something… pervert the balance when you have the power to stop it.

You’re going to kidnap me again?” Adrian tried a smile. “No, I’ll ask you if you *want* to be kidnapped again.

A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.

As long as women consent to be unjustly governed, they will be; but directly women say: "We withhold our consent," we will not be governed any longer as long as government is unjust.

A major of colored troops is here with his party capturing negroes, with or without their consent....They are being conscripted.

And how could anyone consent to give up the smell of open books, old or new?

As we [with Edward Herman] discuss there [in Manufacturing Consent] and elsewhere, recognition of the importance of "manufacturing consent" has become an ever more central theme in the more free societies.

By general consent, he would have been capable of ruling, had he not ruled.

What the proponents of prostitution conveniently ignore is that lack of opportunity is lack of choice.

Don’t consent to be hurt and you won’t be hurt – this is a choice over which you have control

Dissent without action is consent.

Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.

Great point made in son's college orientation re sex/safety/respect/etc: 'Consent is really too low a bar. Hold out for enthusiasm.'