Quotes About Impulse

This is the problem with living by instinct. I don't think.

Hazel kissed boys for all kinds of reasons -- because they were cute, because she was a little drunk, because she was bored, because they let her, because it was fun, because they looked lonely, because it blotted out her fears for a while, because she wasn't sure how many kisses she had left.

She shook her head. The more she thought about it, the more stupid she felt. She was probably infected, but that didn't mean she should have tempted him into making it a sure thing. And, hungry as he was, crazy as he might be, he could have drained her dead, pinned her against the brick wall, and ripped out her throat. She'd been playing with fire, just as he'd accused Midnight of doing. Clever girl. You play with fire because you want to be burnt.

Life's full of opportunities to make crappy decisions that feel good. And after the first one, the rest get a whole lot easier.

Run! I want to shout. But, of course, that's the one thing I don't need to tell her to do.

I think he was flirting with me. I don't even remember deciding to hit him.

This is the problem with living by instinct. I don't think.

With no good ideas, she was going to go for the bad one.

That's what comes of hungering for something. You forget to check if it's rotten before you gobble it down.

A student undergoing a word-association test was asked why a snowstorm put him in mind of sex. He replied frankly: "Because everything does."

A student undergoing a word-association test was asked why a snowstorm put him in mind of sex. He replied frankly: "because everything does.

The savage has only impulse; the civilized man has impulses and ideas. And in the savage the brain retains, as we may say, but few impressions, it is wholly at the mercy of the feeling that rushes in upon it; while in the civilized man, ideas sink into the heart and change it; he has a thousand interests and many feelings, where the savage has but one at a time.

I left, stifling my generous impulse, for I have often observed that while a charitable act may do no harm to the benefactor, it is death to the one who receives it.

Frances longed to Google it. How was she going to cope for ten days without instant answers to idle questions?

Like so many things in life, it had seemed like an excellent idea at the time.

Back then he was thinking with his dick.

He didn't tell them how Britain's national suicide rate dropped by a third when coal gas was phased out, because once people no longer had the option to impulsively stick their head in the oven, there was time for their dark and dreadful impulses to pass.

Now she understood. She could happily murder someone today! In fact, she felt like there should be some sort of recognition for her remarkable strength of character that she didn't.

Some days, a killing spree seems like a good idea.

When I get out of the car I'm so horny I can barely walk up the driveway.

We wander through Art of the Ancient World, past a Babylonian lion, Estruscan urns, an enameled Nubian bracelet, body parts fro Greek statues: a sandaled foot, a muscular male bum with one thigh. It's good to see art, to remember what a natural human impulse it has always been. We move into Art of Europe, the haloes and angels, the sacred birth and bloody murder of one man over and over, a whole continent possessed by one story for centuries.

just this once I will say I approve of your impulse to transgress my edicts and admit you were quite right in following the instincts of your heart.

Nostalgia is toxic, false, and impulse based in a desire to escape the present into the imagined past.

She should have remembered her past experiences in the relationship wars and not let herself get so excited. Evidently her hormones had overruled her common sense and she had become drunk on ovarian wine, the most potent, sanity- destroying substance in the universe.