Quotes About Desire

If I could marry my motorcycle, I'd roll her right up to the altar.

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us.

Aprile è il mese più crudele, genera lillà da terra morta, confondendo memoria e desiderio, risvegliando le radici sopite con la pioggia della primavera.

She was buried in his flesh. She throbbed in the beat of his pulses. She was wine in his blood, a music in his heart.

A slow trickle of lust crawled painfully down the parched gully of desire, and ended feebly in dry fumbling lechery.

Was it in woman's nature to be content with all that a man could give her, and not forever want what was not his to give?

The wine of the grape had never stained her mouth, but the wine of poetry was inextinguishable mixed with her blood, entombed in her flesh.

At times, his devouring, unsated brain seemed to be beyond his governance: it was a frightful bird whose beak was in his heart, whose talons tore unceasingly at his bowels. And this unsleeping demon wheeled, plunged, revolved about an object, returning suddenly, after it had flown away, with victorious malice, leaving stripped, mean, and common all that he had clothed with wonder.

Then, then, will fury leave us, he will cease from those red channels of our life he has so often run, another sort of worm will work at that great vine, whereat he fed. Then, then, indeed, he must give over, fold his camp, retreat; there is no place for madness in a dead man's brain, no place for hunger in a dead man's flesh, and in a dead man's heart there is a place for no desire. At

It is the habit of mankind to entrust to careless hope what they long for, and to use sovereign reason to thrust aside what they do not desire

and their judgment was based more upon blind wishing than upon any sound prediction; for it is a habit of mankind to entrust to careless hope what they long for, and to use sovereign reason to thrust aside what they do not desire.

We're all searching for something to fill up what I like to call that big, God-shaped hole in our souls. Some people use alcohol, or sex, or their children, or food, or money, or music, or heroin. A lot of people even use the concept of God itself. I could go on and on. I used to know a girl who used shoes. She had over two-hundred pairs. But it's all the same thing, really. People, for some stupid reason, think they can escape their sorrows.

Eliza has the sky in her eyes and I've always wanted to touch the goddamn sky.

Stick Boy liked Match Girl, he liked her a lot. He liked her cute figure, he thought she was hot.

Why would you want to go up there, when people are dying to get down here?

But then on meeting you, I felt I should be with you always.

Cabeza de melón Había un niño taciturno, de hombre y melón un injerto. Tenía el ánimo nocturno por desear tanto estar muerto. Pero hay que tener cuidado con lo que se desea. Pues él acabó en jalea tras un pisotón bien dado.

La gente era agradable de ver, sana y elegante, pero impaciente: parecían no estar satisfechos nunca.

Level 4," Lachance said. "Lingerie, footwear, monsters, and beasties.

Humans crave knowledge, and when that craving ends, we are no longer human.

see her or the pain she inflicted, she stirred something in him that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. So alive, it was worth the cost. Any cost. No. He couldn't keep doing this. Karen had been

Linda was nine then, as I was, but we were in love...it had all the shadings and complexities of mature adult love and maybe more, because there were not yet words for it, and because it was not yet fixed to comparisons or chronologies or the ways by which adults measure such things...I just loved her. Even then, at nine years old, I wanted to live inside her body. I wanted to melt into her bones -- that kind of love.

Even then, at nine years old, I wanted to live inside her body. I wanted to melt into her bones - THAT kind of love.

One morning in Saigon she'd asked what it was all about 'This whole war,' she said, 'why was everybody so mad at everybody else?' I shook my head. 'They weren't mad exactly. Some people wanted one thing, other people wanted another thing.' 'What did you want?' 'Nothing,' I said. 'To stay alive.' 'That's all?' 'Yes.