Quotes About Desire

Finché scrivete ciò che desiderate scrivere, questo è tutto ciò che conta.

I have been longing for inner consistency.

Bien des choses se sont détachées de moi. J'ai survécu à certains désirs; j'ai perdu des amis, les uns par la mort, d'autres par ma simple incapacité à traverser la rue.

Sin embargo, no sólo necesitamos un lenguaje nuevo más primitivo, más sensual, más obsceno, sino una nueva jerarquía de las pasiones.

and you wish to be a poet; and you wish to be a lover

The truth was that she did not want intimacy; she wanted conversation. Intimacy has a way of breeding silence, and silence she abhorred.

For here again we come within range of that very interesting and obscure masculine complex which has had so much influence upon the woman's movement; that deep-seated desire, not so much that she shall be inferior as that he shall be superior, which plants him wherever one looks, not only in front of the arts, but barring the way to politics too, even when the risk to himself seems infinitesimal and the suppliant humble and devoted.

I know what loves trembling into fire; how jealousy shoots its green flashes hither and thither; how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted, I have been torn apart.

I fear, I hate, I love, I envy and despise you […]

It is only that I want to be with you and not with anybody else - but you would get bored if I go on saying this, only it comes back and back till it drips of my pen.

passion is stronger in the breast of man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high.

Nothing exists outside us except a state of mind, he thinks; a desire for solace, for relief, for something outside these miserable pigmies, these feeble, these ugly, these craven men and women.

Why, after all, did she do these things? Why seek pinnacles and stand drenched in fire? Might it consume her anyhow! Burn her to cinders!

Should I seek out some tree? Should I desert these form rooms and libraries, and the broad yellow page in which I read Catullus, for woods and fields? Should I walk under beech trees, or saunter along the river bank, where the trees meet united like lovers in the water? But nature is too vegetable, too vapid. She has only sublimities and vastitudes and water and leaves. I begin to wish for firelight, privacy, and the limbs of one person.

Only human beings—what did THEY want?

It was jealousy that was at the bottom of it - jealousy which survives every other passion of mankind...

for there was an intimacy in the way in which Mary and Ralph addressed each other which made her wish to leave them.

Non aveva voglia di morire. La era bella. Il sole caldo. E gli esseri umani?

Pero si un día no vienes después del desayuno, si un día te veo a través de cualquier espejo buscando, quizá, a otro, si el teléfono suena y suena en tu habitación vacía, entonces, después de indecibles angustias, entonces porque la locura del corazón humano no tiene límites- buscaré y encontraré un tú como el tuyo. Entretanto, borremos de un golpe el tic-tac del reloj del tiempo. Acércate más

One must, one always must, do something or other; it is not allowed one simply to enjoy oneself. Was it not for this reason that, some time ago, we fabricated the excuse, and invented the necessity of buying something? But what was it? Ah, we remember, it was a pencil. Let us go then and buy this pencil.

I am in love,' he said, not to her however, but to someone raised up in the dark so that you could not touch her but must lay your garland down on the grass in the dark.

I began to realize what everyone in the world knows and routinely forgets: that to be loved sexually is to be loved not for one's actual self but for one's ability to arouse desire in the other...Only the thoughts in one's mind or intuitions of the spirit can attract permanently...

Man is free only when he is doing what the deepest self likes, and knowing what the deepest self likes, ah! that takes some diving.

Wharton thought no one could have freedom, but James knew no one wanted freedom.