Quotes About Instinct

Do you want a man in your bed?" he murmured, his thumb stroking higher until he found the silk she wore. He hissed in a breath. "Fine!" she said in a strangled tone. "I'll tell you. I do want one. But it'll never be you." "Why no' me?" "I-I've heard about your kind. I know that you get mindless and savage, scratching and biting like animals." "What's wrong with that?

In all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. —Socrates (469–399 BCE)

He's growling for her?" Rónan asked. "His mate walks by, and he does no' touch her? Or pull her into his lap? It's no' natural! And it's starting to freak me out.

Explain how you can be so sure. The first time blood touched my tongue, I knew I was a blood-drinker forever. I didn't need to date Blood for a few months and then move in with Blood and meet Blood's family to be sure. Yes, but that's instinct. Exactly. Don't you trust yours?

Since you're his mate and all. And for the record, ewww.

She's Head Case's mate; he's going to want her anyway. Besides, it's no' like she needs any chemicals. She's smokin' hot.

If you want to communicate an idea to a man's brain, you talk to him through his pecker. It's like an ear horn, y'all.

Never run from one such as me, female. You will no' get away—and we like it. —Lachlain MacRieve, King of the Lykae

Will he lose her just when he's found her? Never, he grates.  He surrenders himself to the beast inside him, the beast that will take its freedom with its teeth, drink water from the gutters, and scavenge refuse to survive.

Kiss this bitch, and she will bite.

We don't talk about things like that." Jiminy stared back, then sneezed powerfully, grateful that her body instinctively rejected such attitudes.

If we didn't want anything, we would never get anything, good or bad. I think our longings are natural, and if we act as nature prompts us we can't go far wrong.

swung his arm and chopped the wolf's head from its body, so that it immediately died. As soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also fell under the sharp edge of

With reflexes that were more like precognition, Han threw everything he had into an equally frantic bank.

The religious instinct will never be replaced by law or even philanthropy.

sometimes we don't need to think to beleive

Man is still a savage to the extent that he has little respect for anything that cannot hurt him.

Men are so visual, they see a woman who appeals to them physically, and it will trigger the romantic love system faster.

We are beasts, you know, beasts risen from the savannas and jungles and forests. We have come down from the trees and up out of the water, but you can never, ever fully remove the feral nature from our psyches.

With his head thrust forward like a ram, Baryba pushed his way through to the front. For some reason this was necessary, he felt with all his guts that it was necessary. He clenched his iron jaws. Something bestial stirred in him, something he hungered for, some murderous instinct. To be with everybody, to howl like everybody, to hit the one that everybody else was hitting. ("A Provincial Tale")

Impulse, on the contrary, only admits instinct as its source of existence. It is the avowed enemy of common sense, which counsels the escape from exterior insinuations that one may concentrate, in order to listen to the voice which dictates to us the abstinence from doing anything until after making a complete analysis of the cause which agitates us.

Micromessaging -- communicating with other human beings through visual, audible, sublingual means, no doubt predates our ability to speak. We actually read micromessages quite naturally without thinking about them. You might say human beings read each other's micromessages subconsciously, in the same way that one dog understands another dog is unfriendly simply because the dog's fur is standing on end. The dogs read each other perfectly. It's not all that different for people.

Human beings, Isao realized, could descend to communicating their feelings like dogs barking in the distance on a cold night.

Oddly enough, living only for one's emotions, like a flag obedient to the breeze, demands a way of life that makes one balk at the natural course of events, for this implies being altogether subservient to nature. The life of the emotions detests all constraints, whatever their origin, and thus, ironically enough, is apt eventually to fetter its own instinctive sense of freedom.