Quotes About Craving

What is this longing, she will want to ask. This troubling feeling of more to come. You can make something out of it, I want to tell her. But that's what her life is for.

Short is the way from need to greed.

I drink from a small spring, my thirst exceeds the ocean.

What suckling craved the creature, born full-fanged?

Bite in! I said. The sound of crackling. Eliza giggled in the back. Her parents did not allow her to eat Doritos. I was her drug dealer, in this way. See? I said. What does it taste like? A Dorito, said a smartass in the front row. Cheese, said someone else. Really? I said. They concentrated on their chips. That good dust stuff, said someone else. Exactly, I said. That good dust stuff.

Doyurulmay? bekleyen gereksinimler kimi zaman halüsinasyonlar doÄŸurur: Susuzluk suyu hayal eder, aÅŸka duyulan gereksinim de ideal bir erkek ya da kad?n?.

Real desire lacks articulacy.

we cannot help but ask what comes of all of this Ã¢â'¬Â¦ there is nothing to show but the satisfaction of hunger and sexual passion, and Ã¢â'¬Â¦ a little momentary gratification Ã¢â'¬Â¦ now and then, between Ã¢â'¬Â¦ endless needs and exertions.

And if we were to show up at any college humanities department in urgent search of purpose and meaning, or were to break down in a museum gallery in a quest for forgiveness or charity, we would be swiftly removed and possibly handed over to psychiatric authorities. The intensity of need and the emotional craving that religions once willingly engaged with have not been thought acceptable within the contemporary cultural realm.

Books did not defer. All readers were equal and this took her back to the beginning of her life. As a girl, one of her greatest thrills had been on VE night when she and her sister had slipped out of the gates and mingled unrecognised with the crowds. There was something of that, she felt, to reading. It was anonymous; it was shared; it was common. And she who had led a life apart now found that she craved it. Here in these pages and between these covers she could go unrecognised.

He was an animal, that great thing for someone else to be.

When one is beyond love, where does pleasure lie? What does one do, seeing the lustful, disrespectful world going about its business, the young up one another's arse? Was there ever an end to it, this irresistible, normal, subnormal craving for sex? Or did it go tauntingly on?

The air grows too warm, too quickly. I want very much for a beautiful woman to hand me a glass of very cold beer. All the atoms in the test chamber are screaming at once. The light. . . the light is taking me to pieces.

Our desire to achieve does not happen in isolation. We seek an audience. When the audience refuses to cheer for us, we work hard until they admire us. We validate ourselves, like Satyavati, through the Other. The Other is the parent whose attention we crave.

Even perfection is a myth. There is no evidence of a perfect world, a perfect man or a perfect family anywhere on earth. Perfection, be it Rama Rajya or Camelot, exists only in mythology. Yet everyone craves for it. This craving inspires art, establishes empires, sparks revolutions and motivates leaders. Such is the power of myth.

From desire come all problems. And all desires come from fear.

Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.

Reading one book is like eating one potato chip.

It was the most beautiful sweet roll Bee had ever seen. A flawless circle, puffy from rising, it was studded with raisins and drizzled with pink icing. She could feel the hunger rake its claws along her stomach lining as she gazed at it.

Bee had never been so hungry in her life. Oh, she'd been hungry plenty of times. Stomach-growling, eat-a-big-meal hungry. But this was different.

A nation of inspired cooks and enthusiastic eaters has, of course, coined a specific word for a lust for a food—goloso (from gola for "throat"), which goes beyond mere appetite, craving, or hunger. Friends readily, even proudly confess to being golosi for cioccolata, sfogliatelle (stuffed pastries), or supplì (melt-in-your-mouth rice and cheese balls).

Deseo antiguo, deseo reciente, ambos sin saciar y que seguramente no saldrían del ámbito de la obsesión.

Don't follow after the object of hatred, look at the angry mind. Anger liberated by itself as it arises is mirrorlike wisdom. Don't chase after the object of pride, look at the grasping mind. Self-importance liberated as it arises is the wisdom of equanimity. Don't hanker after the object of desire, look at the craving mind.

If only it was as easy to banish hunger by rubbing the belly as it is to masturbate.