Quotes About Thirst

Do you hunger for me, do you burn for me

I'm like the trunk of a cactus... I take in a dose of culture and time with friends, then I retreat and go live on it for awhile until I get thirsty again.

Search, no matter what situation you are in. O thirsty one, search for water constantly. Finally, the time will come when you will reach the spring.

In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinking.

When my face is flushed with blood, it becomes red and obscene. It betrays at the same time, through morbid reflexes, a bloody erection and a demanding thirst for indecency and criminal debauchery.

Though you are three times more beautiful than angels, Though you are the sister of the river willows, I will kill you with my singing, Without spilling your blood on the ground. Not touching you with my hand, Not giving you one glance, I will stop loving you, But with your unimaginable groans I will finally slake my thirst. From her, who wandered the earth before me, Crueler than ice, more fiery than flame, From her, who still exists in the ether— From her you will set me free.

I get thirsty people glasses of water, even if that thirsty person is just me.

But where do we even start on the daily walk of restoration and awakening? We start where we are. We find God in our human lives, and that includes the suffering. I get thirsty people glasses of water, even if that thirsty person is just me.

We walk up the beach under the stars. We feel stretched, expanded to take in their compass. They pour into us until we are filled with stars, up to the brim. This is what one thirsts for, I realize, after the smallness of the day, of work, of details, of intimacy—even of communication, one thirsts for the magnitude and universality of a night full of stars, pouring into one like a fresh tide.

This is what one thirsts for, I realize, after the smallness of the day, of work, of details, of intimacy – even of communication, one thirsts for the magnitude and universality of a night full of stars, pouring into one like a fresh tide. And

Drink from me and live forever. Lestat de Lioncourt

A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire, even worse.

You're my insatiable blood thief and soul smasher.

I drank, sucking the blood out of the holes, experiencing for the first time since infancy the special pleasure of sucking nourishment, the body focused with the mind upon one vital source.

Drink. she whispered, drawing nearer. Drink. she held the soft, tender flesh of the wrist towards me. No. I know what to do; haven't I done it in the past? I said to her.

And it was not merely the dry hissing coil of the thirst that was quenched and dissolved, it was all my craving, all the want and misery and hunger that I had ever known.

One doesn't simply glut oneself on blood.

young blood drinker Antoine as the boy had

I caught him as if he were the love of my young life, and unwound the wool from around the artery where I would feed. He begged me to stop, to name my price. How still my Master looked, watching only me, as the man begged and I ignored him, merely feeling for this large-pulsing irresistible vein.

Lestat, let me drink. Let me look for the blood with my tongue and my hear. Let me drink, please; you can't deny me that one moment of intimacy.

He gets lost, or thirsty beyond the point where he can hunt on his own. I have to search for him. He was that way as a man before he was ever made a blood drinker. The blood didn't change him except for a little while. And now he's enslaved to these tiny worlds he creates.

I clamped his mouth in an ardent kiss. The blood passed into him, and violently, he convulsed.

My mouth filled with blood. My lips closed against his silky white flesh so that not a drop would be lost. Deeply I swallowed.

He felt the blood pounding inside him, but it wanted more blood. His hands and feet were now painfully cold.