Quotes About Indulgence

Power, money, food, sex, love. Can we ever get enough, or will getting some make us crave even more?

It was heaven, but with sex and booze and God's complete permission.

You can smell diesel and deep-fried food and vomit and powdered sugar. These days, this is what passes for fun.

When you go out with a drunk, you'll notice how a drunk fills your glass so he can empty his own. As long as you're drinking, drinking is okay.

Píse? Å alamounova, kapitola 7., verÅ¡ 2: Pupek tv?j jako koflík okrouhlý, ne bez nápoje; bÃ…â"¢icho tvé jako stoh pÅ¡enice obrostlý kvítím. V Bibli se v?bec dost míchá sex s jídlem.

For sure, even the worst blow job is better than, say, sniffing the best rose . . . watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh. I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut-hosing orgasm. Painting a picture, composing an opera, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass.

As the French would say: Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked?

a hot Krispy Kreme donut stuffed with blood and voided bowels.

For so long I had eaten my greens and here - at last! - was my ice-cream sundae.

Live, my dear Nora. Satisfy your hunger. There's food all around you, you know.' 'What kind of food, I'd like to know?' 'Ah'-he smiled- 'you must taste all things, actually to know if you like them.' And what good is that, I wanted to ask, if the most delicious fruit is forbidden?

As the 1902 coffee almanac put it, 'When coffee is bad it is the wickedest thing in town; when good, the most glorious.

When coffee is bad it is the wickedest thing in town; when good, the most glorious.

Sooner or later even the most ambitious glutton must crawl away and seek the solace of the vomitorium.

the scent of sweet cherry had attracted hundreds of ants. They were crawling over it and into it, many drowning for their greed.

Your most treasured depravity is child's play beside the experiences we offer.

He opened the door, and his smile faded as his eyes went to the DUNKIN' DONUTS emblazoned on the flat cardboard box in Paul's hands. Perlmutter recoiled like a vampire being offered garlic, and would have fled into the house if Trout had not lifted the box's lid.

It was teenage partying on adult paycheques.

We want more than chocolate cake, said Rachel. We need your help. Jacques seemed unflustered by the girl's sudden impatience. But chocolate cake is a good starting point, oui?

On barstools they ogled the bachelorettes in the club and discussed their chances, recalling near-conquests from previous visits. In the buffet lines they foraged from the heat lamps and steam trays, and impaled and then swirled wasabi around tiny ceramic saucers, tinting soy sauce.

We are being bought off by our affair with the contemporary drug of choice: ease.

I want to dip my finger in your pot of honey.

I want to dance, laugh, eat pink cakes, yellow cakes, drink thin, sharp wine. Or an indecent story, now - I could relish that. The older one grows the more one likes indecency.

We were all indulging ourselves. Nettie wanted to seduce, Mama wanted to suffer, I wanted to read. None of us knew how to discipline herself to the successful pursuit of an ideal, normal woman's life. And indeed, none of us ever achieved it.

the satisfaction of a special Pninian craving.