Quotes About Fulfillment

This is heaven," he gasped. "I want to live inside you, feel you suck me deeper and deeper until we are one.

Always told me what he wanted and needed . . . how good he felt when I made love to him. He was holding himself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I pleased him.

He had the look of a well-fucked man, one who was sated and yet anticipating further pleasures ahead.

I already have the cake. You're the icing on top, with sprinkles, candied fruit, and chocolate drizzle.

Life is short, Jax. Why spending time doing things that don't make you happy?

I was supposed to be having the time of my life.

So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.

Then I decided I would spend the summer writing a novel. That would fix a lot of people.

What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security,' and, 'What a man is is an arrow into the future and a what a woman is is the place the arrow shoots off from.

What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security.

I have done, this year, what I said I would: overcome my fear of facing a blank page day after day, acknowledging myself, in my deepest emotions, a writer, come what may.

And what is happy? It is a going always on. There is something better to be done than I have done, and spurred by the fair delusion of progress, I will seek to progress, to whip myself on, to more and more- to learning. Always.

If only I can find him... the man who will be intelligent, yet physically magnetic and personable. If I can offer that combination, why shouldn't I expect it in a man?

I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

I am made, crudely, for success.

My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.

Your security and love of life don't depend on the presence of another, but only on yourself, your chosen work, and your developing identity. Then you can safely choose to enrich your life by marrying another person, and not, as e e cummings says, until.

I felt sorry when I came to the last page. I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence.

I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.

This is what it is to be complete. It is horrible.

I love you because you are me ... my writing, my desire to be many lives. I will be a little god in my small way. My happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt and beauty, and transformed it to typewritten words on paper. I am justifying my life, my keen emotion, my feeling, by turning it into print.

Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God - or the universal woman-and-man - or anything much. I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can because I somewhere picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.

I don't know what I ate, but I felt immensely better after the first mouthful. It occurred to me that my vision of the fig-tree and all the fat figs that withered and fell to the earth might well have arisen from the profound void of an empty stomach.

I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love.