Quotes About Desire

You miss me. And I miss you. It hurts, seeing you at that fire, giving your hands to the heat, the way I gave my hand to fire, only different. I imagine pushing you into the red abyss and jumping in after you, with you, so we can burn together, forever, a tree of life, light, sex.

So the good news is, I know exactly what I want." "You do?" I say and I hope you'll ask me to eat you out in the bathroom at Starbuck's.

They buy these books to get scared because their lives are too easy. How pathetic is that?

you want to know what I know and hear what I like to hear.

I wish there were a way for me to ask about a red ladle but it's not a normal question

Sometimes you love someone so much that you can't bear a taste or a text because only this kind of moment will do. Shared air. Stillness on a love seat.

This is like the end of The Corrections," I say and the problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don't want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates. You turn the page and there is nothing and we are both crying.

bBecause he simply doesn't see his dreams in detail, the kind of details that drive a person to pack their shit, to move.

T-shirt lifts just enough so that you can see my midsection—you need something to dream about—and

You finish sending a text and relax your arms and lower your legs and when animals open up like that, they want to fuck.

And you're not the standard insecure nymph hunting for Faulkner you'll never finish, never start; Faulkner that will harden and calcify, if books could calcify, on your nightstand; Faulkner meant only to convince one-night stands that you mean it when you swear you never do this kind of thing.

You see Elliot in Hannah scam his way to be near his sister-in-law and you call that romantic but if you knew what I went through to get into your home, that I messed up my back trying to know you, inside and out, you'd judge me for it.

Keep your expectations simple and you almost always get what you want,

I loved her and she did not love me.

Well," I say and I should shut up and I want to shut up but you make me want to talk.

I tell you to slow down and you don't listen and I almost love what a cunt you can be because one of these days you're gonna tie me to a bed and slap me and lord over me the way you lord over all people who get in your way. You're so revved up and I want to play with you and I do.

It's the little things that make you want to kill someone, the way Milo drinks Diet Dr Pepper and ties his Jewfro in a bun and lifts his shirt to show off his stomach and wipes his glasses down even though they're not dirty. Yes, Milo got glasses, and seafoam green Topsiders, and a navy blue Polo-style shirt with a popped collar, and didn't I already kill this guy when he was schilling Home Soda and fucking Guinevere Beck?

What a shame to be so angered by what you don't have that you treat what you do have like it's nothing. She's

You say that you've pictured the same wedding—the song is "My Sweet Lord"—with a million different guys, "including you,

know I should apologize and tell her that she's right, that I do wish Jon would see me, that it's eating me alive. But the thing about things that break your heart, it's hard to validate them by saying them out loud.

you have forced us into asexual, sunlit spaces. I finally have you in the dark and you're not hiding from me anymore and I'm gonna make this last as long as I can. I love this. I love you.

You are a woman and I am a man and we belong in the dark together

The world fell out of love with love at some point and

You envy her. How come she doesn't have the weight of ambition? You pity her. How come she has no ambition?