Quotes About Lust

Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

I am pinned to my seat with pity and horror and a weird, twisted affection laced with longing and traces of lust.

Damn, I would give anything to see that man naked, Charlotte whispered. How could you only say he was 'all right'?

...She'd gone past interest, swung into attraction, burst through lust, tripped over affection, and was now skidding out of control into love.

Love is the lotus, lust is the mud the lotus arises out of.

Lust is raw selfishness. It's all about my wants, my needs, my pleasure. Most love songs are actually lust songs.

Love can not be much younger than the lust for murder.

I believe in lust at first sight.And attraction.But not love.

Making love with his ego.

I was asking about lust, wasn't I? I was fairly certain of it. But isn't love supposed to come before lust? It does in the dictionary.

The path of love has many opponents - fear, self-pity, anxiety, hate, lust, greed, avarice - all the usual freinds.

Desire is the kind of thing thateats youandleaves you starving.

It was who they were, and it was who they always would be. They would remain forever in lust and forever in love, for theirs was a love that transcended body and mind. Theirs was a love of the soul.

And it doesnt really matter if intelligence exists because it is really about the look, the idea of a girl like this, the promise of sex. It's all about the lure.

and somehow, the more we would face our own demons of pride, greed, and lust, the more gentle and kind we would become toward others, the less judgmental, the less harsh, the more empathetic, because we realize as never before that everyone is pitched in an invisible inner battle, and the battle isn't easy for anyone.

desires," I mean things we feel that we need or want very strongly. There's an element of passion in the experience of desire

Such beliefs were born in man's willful refusal to use his mind, in his lust for the unearned, his wish for success without effort. Such beliefs were the embodiment of hatred for all that was good, hatred for virtue, hatred for value. It was ultimately a hatred of themselves, of life, of existence. It was that hate, that dedication to death, that was the true manifestation of evil.

The only thing more dangerous then a vampire crazed with blood lust was a vampire crazed with anything else. All the meticulous single-mindedness that went into finding young women who slept with their bedroom window open got channeled into some other interest, with merciless and painstaking efficiency...

The Fool held his breath. On long nights on the hard flagstones he had dreamed of women like her. Although, if he really thought about it, not much like her; they were better endowed around the chest, their noses weren't so red and pointed, and their hair tended to flow more. But the Fool's libido was bright enough to tell the difference between the impossible and the conceivably attainable, and hurriedly cut in some filter circuits.

The young man's buttocks gleamed round and firm in the lamplight, the pale brown skin stretched tight and flawless, so smooth that it made you long to reach out and stroke it. But for the nervous tightening of the muscles under the skin, they looked as if they belong to the statue of a god.

I know part of what turns me on so hard, makes me so violent with lust, is that he's dangerous. I fell for the bad guy. I'm crazy about the one who's trouble. The alpha that doesn't play well with others and doesn't take orders from anyone.

I like sex for breakfast, kid. I eat early and often.

He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?

When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn't even bother trying. Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think she's nuts. Nuts, I tell you.