Quotes About Instinct

For her own self-satisfaction was it that she wished so instinctively to help, to give, that people might say of her, "O Mrs. Ramsay! dear Mrs. Ramsay . . . Mrs. Ramsay, of course!" and need her and send for her and admire her? Was it not secretly this that she wanted

In a conflict between the heart and the brain, follow your heart.

I have the European urge to use my feet when a drive can be dispensed with

I felt instinctively that toilets - as also telephones - happened to be for reasons unfathomable, the points where my destiny was liable to catch. We all have such fateful objects - it may be a recurrent landscape, a number in another - carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of special significance for us: here shall John always stumble; there shall Jane's heart always break.

Nothing could be more humiliating to a rational creature than being required to encourage the development of a Base conditional reflex by stopping at a red light when there was not an earthly soul around, heeled or wheeled.

I have but followed nature. I am nature's faithful hound. Why then this horror that I cannot shake off?

I felt instinctively that toilets- as also telephones- happened to be for reasons unfathomable, the points where my destiny was liable to catch

Horse sense is the thing a horse has which keeps it from betting on people.

Further strengthenings of the self-centered instinct for survival recruit even greater numbers of people into some sort of ring of fellowship (church or gender, red state or blue) by populating the terra incognita outside the ring with enough barbarians to verify the existence of a civilization within--to define the preferred stock by what, as all good people agree, it decidedly is not.

She felt like she was walking up on a wounded animal, unsure if reaching out to him was going to win her a bit of uneasy trust or a vicious taste of fang and claw.

and horror of horrors, he realized that he was experiencing some sort of a crush. He needed to kill something.

Instinct made him want to fold her into his arms and fix her hurt, but instead, he steeled himself to finish it. "What? Why do you look so suprised? You are a sex demon. Did you think we could ride off into the sunset, set up a house and fuck up a bunch of kids? The only thing I've ever wanted from you is sex and blood. Fucking and feeding go together for me, and since I can't feed from you anymore...." He gestured to the door. "Get out, and don't ever come near me again." ~Con

It had been centuries since he'd last succumbed to the kinds of feelings that usually signalled an impending catastrophic bout of self-destructiveness. He either wanted to kill something, or he wanted to fuck something...and the latter something was Cat.

Instinct is the elusive magic that happens when art collides with hard-won craft.

People shooting other people is bad and don't nobody have to tell you, you born knowing it.

Denis could think of no logical reason why he should not attempt to mate with Beth Cooper. There were no laws explicitly against it. They were of the same species, and had complementary sex organs, most likely, based on extensive mental modeling Denis had done.

Cock-a-doodle-do! Any cock will do!

At last Dirmit came upon a way. One by one, she took the words from her head and put them into her heart. When a word made her heart pound she wrote it down at once. When it had no effect she cast it out. From that day forward, Dirmit became a slave to her heart, doing what it told her to do, going where it told her to go, saying what it told her to say.

Josh had told me a long time ago that he had this theory that an entire relationship was based on what occurred over the course of the first five minutes you know each other. That everything that came after those first minutes was just details being filled in. Meaning: you already knew how deep the love was, how instinctually you felt about someone. What happened in their first five minutes? Time stopped.

You don't have to think about love; you either feel it or you don't.

Necesito una respuesta en este momento, el amor no se piensa, se siente o no se siente.

The voice that only you can hear gives you the signs, the clues, that something is going well and, more importantly, that you really want this opportunity.

She was so wicked. Such a classic case of resentment and ambivalence bumping and brushing up against all that maternal instinct. The love and hate in her was as vast as space- all meteors, no atmosphere.

It was as if his fingers knew things, but they couldn't show him unless they were moving, touching. He had to think it was similar for carpenters and writers, and he knew it was the same for chefs.