Quotes About Desire

Avevano cominciato, entrambi, a essere penetrati, ma non si erano ancora dati un bacio.

Your teacher did not want to be a teacher. He wanted to be a meter reader at the electric utility. Meter readers do not have to put up with children, work comparatively little, and what is more important, have greater opportunity for corruption and are hence both better off and held in higher regard by society.

It is the effect of scarcity; one's rules of propriety make one thirst for the improper. Moreover, once sensitized in this manner, one numbs only slowly, if at all . . .

depression is a failure to imagine a plausible desirable future for oneself...

exceeded only by sex.

I thought about this. As I have already told you, I did not grow up in poverty. But I did grow up with a poor boy's sense of longing

what I would like is a raise.

It has been said that depression is a failure to imagine a plausible desirable future for oneself.

She had, as was by then usual for her, been wearing her black robe, closed to her neck, and he had, as was by then usual for him, been wearing a size-too-small white T-shirt, pinned to his lean chest and stomach, and she watched him and he had circled her, and they had gone to his place that night, and she had shuffled off the weight of her virginity with some perplexity but not excessive fuss.

Here we are not squeamish when it comes to facing the consequences of our desire.

Prologue: There are three wants which can never be satisfied: that of the rich wanting more, that of the sick, wanting something different, and that of the traveler, who says, anywhere but here. —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lina bolted up in the morning, thinking she'd slept in. She pined for regular days, which used to include heat, bees, a messy room, songs, a crush. Now she would never have them again.

Sometimes, a stage curtain parts and you see: life could be better if you had more. Usually, I think, we can get just as good a different way. But tricks, they do not always work.

Carrie would always have him anyway, he thought, the way she had him now. Spring smells of dirt and rainwater rose from the ground. Love was a mixed business. As in building, he couldn't afford the refinement he desired. He needed too much. Carrie had been his great romance. He hadn't been hers. With Susan it wasn't romance, exactly. It was home.

Her need for love is as wide as that sky out there and as impossible for an unwinged mortal to fulfill.

A man cannot live without water. He cannot live without it, but he can bear the thought of no water. A man can live without sex. He can live without it, but he cannot bear the thought of no sex.

He still smelled of limes. It made saliva come into her mouth. It made her feel that before she had been sleepy, and now she was awake.

When she woke she thought I know what I would wish but by now she knew that where she wanted to go was not a different place but a different time.

He calls for food. Who will feed me? I, who have fed so many, am hungry. Bring me food. Let there be food. Oysters on a silver salver. He drinks them from their shells. Sweet skewers of pork with a peanut glaze. He tears them with his teeth. Filo parcels of feta and spinach. He breaks them with his hands. His prayer is answered. The feast surrounds him.

Love is a demon. It would take over, and it would kill us, but first it would keep us all alive.

Come with me, Mack," I said. "Back to my place." I tried to pull my hand back. Our fingers were intertwined like those bloody hospital robes. I didn't mind, even when he scared me a little. The blood that kept us alive was trapped just under our skin, racing through veins. All those cells inside and out were fighting for a way to move closer together, beyond the trap of skin, dependent on breath.

It does take time. From the day I laid eyes on her, I wished Miss Louise Grady could just once look at me and see me. For years I kept that twinkling chance like a jewel in a box. That's what unrequited means.

I close my eyes, a useless flutter. I open them, and I see you half a world away. I hear fever parting your lips. I feel your shivering, colorless geckos running down your spine. I smell the night sweat that has bathed you clean.

Rien n'imprime si vivement quelque chose à notre souvenance que le désir de l'oublier.