When My Own Words Fail Me

I didn't know how to voice how I feel about my orientation (and my views on love and sex) so I found an excerpt from open of my favorite books instead:

"I enjoyed beauty in all its forms, fair and dark, curved and hard, spiced or pleasing. I should sample all of the delights of the world. And there were so many. It almost staggered me sometimes, how many forms of beauty there were. I saw it in the broad shoulders of a guardsman, in the handsome dark face of a young doctor from Elephantine, in the lissome movement of a eunuch dancer, in the knowing gravity of Masters of Sciences from the Museum old enough to be my grandsires. Each, in their turn, looked aside at me, and I felt their eyes following me.

There were women too who caught my eye. I saw it in the quiet girls with a way of moving that suggested depths of sensuality they had not yet plumbed, or the way some women tossed their heads, beads on the ends of their braids clicking against the smooth honey of their necks.

With all of this beauty put before [me], how could one not sample a little of each?"