Quotes About Craving

peor es el chile y el agua lejos! —

but I'd hate to want 'em and not have 'em." "Oh what is it? What is it?" Laura asked, jumping up

I want the drumstick! I want the drumstick!

You deserve to be happy. What can I do? Don't send me away, I thought. He looked at me again. What do you want? I want to taste an apple, I said. And your lips, I thought.

He made a small sigh, as he swallowed the first blood, then his mouth closed over my earlobe, mouth working at the wound, tongue coaxing blood from the wound. He pressed his body the length of mine, one hand cupping my turned head, the other playing down the line of my body. Maybe it was just blood, but I never stroked my steak while eating it.

It wasn't just my beast's hunger, but Jean-Claude's blood thirst and Richard's craving for flesh. It was all that and the ardeur running through all of it, so that one hunger fed into the next in an endless chain, a snake eating it's own tail, an Ouroboros of desires.

I was hungry, and the corn dogs smelled good. Should I eat first or accuse the Master of the City of murder? Choices, choices. I

BaÅŸka bir sidhenin dokunuÅŸunu ne kadar özlediÄŸimi biliyordum ama o ana kadar fark etmemiÅŸtim. EÄŸer diÄŸer odada Griffin olsayd?, ona giderdim. Sabah kalbine bir b?çak saplayabilirdim ama bu gece, ona giderdim. sy.98

We domestic sensualists live in a state of longing, no matter how comfortable our own places are.

I wanted to pull down a book, open it proper, and gobble up page after page

I have ten bucks in my pocket - what to spend it on? French fries - ten dollars' worth of french fries, ultimate fantasy.

I like cheeseburgers too much to be a model.

Afraid that my head might burst through the roof, I head for the mall. I have ten bucks in my pocket—what to spend it on? French fries—ten bucks' worth of french fries, ultimate fantasy.

It was still there, a low-grade fever in the blood, an itch somewhere down beneath the skin, where you couldn't scratch it.

Everybody has one thing that gets to him. Women or liquor or gambling or something. The trouble is when you've got more than one vice.

Its women shall be the voluptuaries not of pleasure but of pain, doomed to hunt for what they least dare to find.

Maybe I'm sad about wanting you. I'm not too comfortable with wanting someone.

I love white Portugal wine better than claret, champagne, or burgundy. I have a sad vulgar appetite.

A sob caught in my chest. I didn't even know what a gray was, other than a drab color. All I knew was that I was hungry all the time. And I knew, deep down, that it wasn't just for food.

The craving to touch her is like an itch I can't scratch.

For chocolate's sake!

I wanted to drown inside a woman in the feeling and drooling of the love I could give her. I wanted her pulse to crush me with its intensity. That's what I wanted.

In other words, it is not in craving after ready-made, complete and finished things that love finds its meaning ? but in the urge to participate in the becoming of such things. Love is akin to transcendence; it is but another name for creative drive and as such is fraught with risks, as all creation is never sure where it is going to end.

It was because I craved the drama of her ambivalence, the tenacity of her enthusiasm, the sting of her doubt. I read those books because I needed to be with her. Is it too much to say that I was in love with her? Who was she, anyway?