Why not? If you're not going to let me see you naked, we might as well be girlfriends.""You're a twisted little man.""Come on, Stretch, share with the class.""No!" I laughed."Prude.""Perv.""Schoolmarm.""Some other word that essentially means perv.

Nim looked aghast. “Of course not. Do you think my future wife would be a servant? No—it’s Number Seven of the wives. Her name is Begonia.”“Oh, no, Nim,” Vesper said. “You can’t fall for one of the wives! She’s married. And to the king, no less. That’s illegal. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but you’ll still probably be arrested if anyone finds out—or worse.”“I knew you’d say that,” Nim said, turning away. “You’re such a prude, Vesper. Love is above things like rules. And the king has so many wives and mistresses—he doesn’t even remember all of them.

--the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man...

Give me the Black Death over a Victorian prude any day. At least the dying screw like it's their last day on earth.

On the inside, the copycats of the ruffians are more delicate than the copycats of prudes.

One of the Christian's biggest fears is appearing 'too Christian'. God forbid, because that's often characterized as god-awful! We want to be one, but without being 'one of them'.

He gave a wry smile. With all this vigilant vigils on virginity, you would think the country would have controlled its population by now.

Lying mouth to mouth, kiss to kiss in the pillow dark, loin to loin in unbelievable surrendering sweetness so distant from all our mental fearful abstractions it makes you wonder why men have termed God antisexual somehow (p. 148)