Quotes About Craving

Have you ever wanted something that you knew was bad for you? Something that you ached for so much that you could think of nothing else?" "Yes, which is why I always end up eating the whole chocolate bar anyway.

What would you like? (Maggie) I don't care. I'll eat anything not Tylenol or chocolate. (Wren)

I'm not people, I only eat them.

Aren't you ever satisfied? I swear if I were mortal, I'd be limping from our last go-round. If not dead. We really need to find you a hobby other than jumping on top of me. (Acheron)

And people in Hell want ice water

And I want out of this life on drugs.

For all of my life I have needed more.

We crave, we deeply yearn for, release from the limitations of a dogma that declares separation, disunity, and judgment to be the essential condition of life.

But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?

Thirst after body is the great bane of human life.

Sure, I eat because I have to. But I also eat because I want to. It is one of life's few pleasures.

I wanted so much to have a life. Even just once, even for a second.

Desire is one of the burning experiences of human life.

that yearning inside you that seeks for fulfillment - does it still burn?...

Benevolence alone will not make a teacher, nor will learning alone do it. The gift of teaching is a peculiar talent, and implies a need and a craving in the teacher himself.

Give me women, wine and snuff Until I cry out hold, enough You may do so san objection Till the day of resurrection; For bless my beard then aye shall be My beloved Trinity.

Oh Ellie, doesn't it make your mouth water?" "It makes me water all right," I said crudely. "But not from my mouth.

My feet hurt, I was light-headed with stress and bad meals, and the idea of perhaps eating real food and sitting in a chair-- or even sleeping in a bed!-- sounded like bliss.

Just like a Conn, she thought. Eating everything in sight.

Tell me nothing in you chafes at the cool certainty of Faerie. That there is no human soul in you, craving touch, craving passion and emotion.

Briefly, she thought of murder. Her hands itched for the wash of blood. But this was the blood she wanted.

Passion filled him, terrible and sweet, a craving as fierce as ever. It was not something one could turn on a courtesan-this wantom cupidity-and expect him to live. But another wampyr was not prey, was not a courtesan. Another wampyr was an equal and a rival, though David might be less than a quarter Sebastien's age, and quite capable of surviving his unalloyed strength.

It's an addiction. An obsession. It is not safe.

It was too early for Scotch, unfortunately, because the dusty crystal decanter on the sideboard had never looked so good. Resolutely, Riel turned her back on it.