Quotes About Desire

One cannot love dust. One might as well put the hook in one's heart oneself.

I can tell you what it is my wife seeks: sovereignity for Faerie, and freedom from old bargains." "Lucifer," Will said. "Everyone wants to remake the world.

He tossed his head to flick his dripping hair from his eyes, and then wished he hadn't, because Baines climbed up the three swaybacked steps to the dais and smoothed the muddy locks back with thick gentle fingers. Kit flinched from the touch as if it burned him, and in his heart he heard an angel whimper.

The boy is a whore. For slightly less than the price of a good meal-food which the wolf has no use for-that wolf could hire his mouth, his hands…other things.

Right now, with the taste of Muire's life hot on his lips, filling him with a restless passion, the temptation is unbearable.

Dying seemed a small price to pay for such a kiss and now he knew why Selene had fallen away from Muire so disconsolate.

I'm a tiger who does not care to hunt any longer.

Is that so surprising, that you should be desirable?

He steps forward, tossing his forelock about the root of his horn, and his beauty does not strangle me.

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.

All of Mingan's longings and his sorrows were there under Strifbjorn's heart, only waiting to be taken out and examined in the light.

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

He knew Michelangelo wanted him, as he had always known. As Michelangelo had always permitted him to know.

She smiled as he came closer, her eyes as violet now as twilight, matching the shadows that surrounded them and lay under her cheekbones. The lines of her collarbone glinted like knives, and he could see the rings of her larynx through the translucent skin of her throat. He thought the bones of her fingers might crumble if he simply reached out and took her hand; even her amazing hair was lusterless and dry in its floor-long beads.

Delicious to know you could have him. Delicious to know that you could save him.

I didn't want to open my eyes. My head was splitting, and all I wanted to do was lie down and hide.

Love, all I want is to make love to somebody who knows my name.

I was wondering, frankly, what kind of pointless gesture I could make just so I wouldn't feel like I was just dying passively.

Much as she despised the man, she had to admit to a certain agreeable shiver when his lips brushed her glove.

He turned his head aside, offered Sebastien his throat, his fingers curled and urging.

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.

Sebastien was already leaning in, drawn by the enticing heat of blood, when he recollected himself and jerked back.

Consciences are the sort of thing that don't seem really desirable to have, unless you're currently using yours.

He wondered if a werewolf's bloodlust, its passion, its compulsion, could possibly be more unendurable than his thirst.