Quotes About Pleasure

People in pain may look for comfort and explanations. People disappointed in pleasure look for purpose.

But disappointment in pleasure is a completely different thing. While pain can often be seen as a means to a greater end, pleasure is seen as an end in itself. And when pleasure has run its course, a sense of despondency can creep into one's soul that may often lead to self-destruction. Pain can often be temporary, but disappointment in pleasure gives rise to emptiness—not just for a moment, but for life.

pleasure brings no lasting fulfillment.

Pleasure that profanes is pleasure that destroys.

Every culture exploits some segment of society in order to entertain hungers, either private or public. We are all pleasure seekers, and what gives us pleasure is a revelation of our values.

Life is a search for the spiritual. Whether in the throes of pain or in the disappointments of pleasure, we strive for an essence that is beyond the physical.

These extremes of feeling at either end of the spectrum that most of us wish to avoid, even as we are drawn into them, are the twin realities that help shape our search. We want to find happiness. We want to avoid pain. We want to know who we are. We want to know what we are. We care about our origin and our essence. Pleasure and pain become indicators along the way on the road that will lead us to our destiny, and they are rooted in the question of our origin.

Pleasure without boundaries produces a life without purpose. That is real pain. No death, no tragedy, no atrocity—nothing really matters. Life is sheer hollowness, with no purpose. In

I never in my life argued with a piece of cake or a bowl of ice cream.

Savory...that's a swell word. And Basil and Betel. Capsicum. Curry. All great. But Relish, now, Relish with a capital R. No argument, that' the best.

Happiness is important. Fun is everything. And yet I kept sitting there saying to myself, I'm not happy, I'm not happy.

People want to be happy, isn't that right? Haven't you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren't they? Don't we keep them moving, don't we give them fun? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.

men do love sin, Will, oh how they love it, never doubt, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and smells.

Think I'll go eat me a doughnut and take me a nap.

It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.

RELISH! What a special name for the minced pickle sweetly crushed in its white-capped jar. The man who had named it, what a man he must have been. Roaring, stamping around, he must have tromped the joys of the world and jammed them in this jar and writ in a big hand, shouting, RELISH! For its very sound meant rolling in sweet fields with roistering chestnut mares, mouths bearded with grass, plunging your head fathoms deep in trough water so the sea poured cavernously through your head. RELISH!

There were so many things a tree could do: add color, provide shade, drop fruit or become a children's playground, a whole sky universe to climb and hang from; an architecture of food and pleasure, that was a tree.

When did it all start, you ask, this job of ours (to burn book). There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship. Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Ask yourself what do people want in this country above all? People want to be happy isn't that right? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation?

That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.

What do we want in this country, above all? People want to be happy, isn't that right? Haven't you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren't they? Don't we keep them moving, don't we give them fun? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.

I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren't they? Don't we keep them moving, don't we give them fun? that's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.

Christ, you could massacre half a Hindu village and still look like Peter Rabbit. What are you stuffed with?" "Chocolate bars. And I keep six kinds of ice-cream in my icebox, when I can afford it.

O youth! The strenght of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it! (...) I think of her with pleasure, with affection, with regret - as you would think of some one dead you have loved. I shall never forget her.... Pass the bottle.

Felicity, felicity - how shall I say it? - is quaffed out of a golden cup in every latitude: the flavour is with you - with you alone, and you can make it as intoxicating as you please.