Quotes About Desire

I've thought about nothing else but you.

What the cold light showed me was that my situation was simply unlivable. I wanted, with a desire greater than any desire which I had ever conceived could exist without instantly killing its owner by spontaneous combustion, something which I simply could not have.

I need love, I've never felt more in need of it than now. I feel so terribly terribly unhappy.

What greater torment than to see that light, and then to see it eternally withdrawn?

They really wanted to remain always in their own house and their own garden. There are such people.

I'm the absolute queen bee of unrequited love.

I crave for love, everybody does . . . and I've never had a bloody crumb of it—and I've given so much love to people—I can really love people, I can, I let them walk over me—but nobody's ever loved me.

And this great love makes you both ruthless .

Girls don't want men to be quiet and gentle, I'm told. If you're not panting with impatient lust they think you're not interested.

Sex comes to most of us with a twist.

He did not touch her but enjoyed the particular intimate pain of the tension between them.

I was born to be nothing and to have nothing.

Sometimes I just feel so shut in, with all those people and they've all got something while I've got nothing.

And I thought, rolling my head to and fro between my hands in anguish, oh if only it could have worked somehow for us two.

This figure, which I had so vaguely, idly, noticed before was now utterly changed in my eyes. The whole world was its background. And between me and it there hovered, perhaps for the last time, the vision of a slim long-legged girl with gleaming thighs. I ran.

Oh if only only only we could be happy and ordinary like other people.

She was dressed to go to bed only it was ridiculously early to go to bed. She desired to be unconscious.

We may love our chains and our stripes too.

I wanted consolation, I wanted love, I wanted, to save me, some colossal and powerful love such as I had never known before.

We're just living on our emotions and eating each other.

How could it be that I had actually kissed her cheek without enveloping her, without becoming her? How could I at that moment have refrained from kneeling at her feet and howling?

What we can see determines what we choose. Good is the distant source of light, it is the unimaginable object of our desire. Our fallen nature knows only its name and its perfection. That is the idea which is vulgarized by existentialists and linguistic philosophers when they make good into a mere matter of personal choice. It cannot be defined, not because it is a function of our freedom, but because we do not know it.

Happiness. What's that? I don't know. How can one be happy when one loves a demon?

If only it were over, done, without the awful doing of it.