Quotes About Desire

To be kissed on the lips by your husband is the most decadent thing.

I still believed he'd love me again somehow, love me that intense, thick way he did, the way that made everything good.

She'd always been one of those girls who wanted what anyone else had, even if she didn't want it.

I will find you, Amy. Lovesick words, hateful intentions.

because for Amy, love was like drugs or booze or porn: There was no plateau. Each exposure needed to be more intense than the last to achieve the same result.

Right now, she had an almost obsessive need to get home, nest up, feel safe.

Our kind of love can go into remission, but it's always waiting to return. Like the world sweetest cancer.

He needed no foreplay for the interview, and I was grateful. It's like sweet-talking your date when you both know you're about to get laid.

My brain is so busy with Nick thoughts, it's a swarm inside my head: Nicknicknicknicknick! And when I picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once, maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as much as I do him. Is that wrong? I don't even know anymore.

Andie was a physical girl, and that's not code for 'It's all about the sex'. She was a hugger, a toucher, she was prone to running her fingers through my hair or down my back in a friendly scratch. She got reassurance and comfort from touching. And yes, fine, she also liked sex.

AÅŸk daha iyi bir adam olma isteÄŸi yarat?r. DoÄŸru bu, doÄŸru. Ama belki aÅŸk, gerçek aÅŸk ayn? zamanda olduÄŸum adam olmama da izin veriyordur.

I mean, if I were a guy, looking to pay a girl to wank me off, I wouldn't walk in the room and say, "My God, I smell hints of fresh strudel and nutmeg… quick, grab my dick!

I really wanted the book to make money, in an obsessive childish way—that feeling that if I wanted it enough, it should happen. It should happen.

There might be a space too, for this. The feel of killing, there might be an empty spot just waiting to be filled.

It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wished I could stop trying.

Please let him look. I didn't need to hide from someone courting oblivion as ardently as I am.

Des, who brought me things I wanted (tulips, wine) to make me do the things he wanted (love him). Nick just wanted me to be happy, that's all, very pure. Maybe I mistook that for laziness.

But one day I will wear him down, I will catch him off guard, and he will lose the energy for the nightly battle, and he will get in bed with me. In the middle of the night, I'll turn to face him and press myself against him. I'll hold myself to him like a climbing, coiling vine until I have invaded every part of him and made him mine.

At one point, she probably liked the idea of a daughter. When she was a girl, I bet she daydreamed of being a mother, of coddling, of licking her child like a milk-swelled cat. She has that voraciousness about children. She swoops in on them. Even I, in public, was a beloved child.

She had perfect skin, so free of blotches or wrinkles, her face so perfect and character-free she could have just popped out of the womb. They all seemed unfinished. I wanted them to go away.

And when I picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once, maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as much as I do him.

She called me Mille and she couldn't keep her hands off me. I adored her.

Just one olive, though

And before he leans in, he brushes the sugar from my lips so he can taste me.