Quotes About Desire

Their intimacy was so abstract, he did not know he wanted to crush her onto his breast to ease the ache there. He was afraid of her. The fact that he might want her as a man wants a woman had in him been suppressed into shame.

She had scornful grey eyes, a skin like white honey, and a full mouth with a slightly lifted upper lip, that did not know whether it was raised in scorn of all men, or out of eagerness to be kissed.

Do you like me?' `Very much! And you see there's no question of kissing between us, is there?' `None at all!' said Connie. `But oughtn't there to be?' ` Why, in God's name? I like Clifford, but what would you say if I went and kissed him?' `But isn't there a difference?

Money one always wanted.

Well, if one had to prostitute oneself, let it be to a bitch-goddess!

Light, old boy? said Beatrice, tilting her cigarette at him. He bent forward to her to light his cigarette at hers. She was winking at him as he did so. Miriam saw his eyes trembling with mischief, and his full, almost sensual mouth quivering. He was not himself, and she could not bear it. As he was now, she had no connection with him, she might as well not have existed. She saw the cigarette dancing on his full red lips. She hated his thick hair for being tumbled loose on his forehead.

Her dark eyes were naked with their love, afraid, and yearning. His eyes too were dark, and they hurt her. They seemed to master her.

The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs...And a woman had to yield. A man was like a child with his appetites. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant connection.

After all,' he said in a declamatory voice, `one gets all one wants out of Racine. Emotions that are ordered and given shape are more important than disorderly emotions. She watched him with wide, vague, veiled eyes. `Yes, I'm sure they are,' she said.

don't you REALLY WANT to get married?

Almost with bitterness he watched her go. She had connected him up again, when he had wanted to be alone. She had cost him that bitter privacy of a man who at last wants only to be alone.

Dismissed, he wanted to kiss her, but he dared not. She half wanted him to kiss her, but could not bring herself to give any signs.

I don't over-eat myself and I don't over-fuck myself.

Only to my experience the mass of women are like this: most of them want a man, but don't want the sex, but they put up with it, as part of the bargain.

Then there's the sort that puts you out before you really "come," and go on writhing their loins till they bring themselves off against your thighs. But they're mostly the Lesbian sort. It's astonishing how Lesbian women are, consciously or unconsciously. Seems to me they're nearly all Lesbian.

Those who go searching for love only find their own lovelessness. But the loveless never find love; only the loving find love, and they never have to search for it.

Some sort of perversity in our souls makes us not want, get away from, the very thing we want. We have to fight against that.

He could not leave her, because in one way she did hold the best of him. He could not stay with her because she did not take the rest of him, which was three-quarters. So he chafed himself into rawness over her.

All human beings are vines. But especially the idealist. He is a vine, and he needs to clutch and climb. And he despises the man who is a mere potato, or turnip, or lump of wood.

Well, so many words, because I can't touch you. If I could sleep with my arms round you, the ink could stay in the bottle.

Far be it from me to suggest that all women should go running after gamekeepers for lovers.

Ans?z?n içine doÄŸdu, bir güneÅŸ gibi: Hepsinden, bana, aÅŸklar?n?n cesedi ile kulluk etmelerini istemiÅŸtim. Sonunda da onlara, ancak kendi aÅŸk?m?n cesedini verebildim. Bu bedenimdir -al?n,yiyin- cesedim.

And do you care for me?" He kissed her without answering. "Tha mun goo, let me dust thee," he said. His hand passed over the curves of her body, firmly, without desire, but with soft, intimate knowledge. As she ran home in the twilight the world seemed a dream; the trees in the park seemed bulging and surging at anchor on a tide, and the heave of the slope to the house was alive.

I love thee that I call go into thee, he said. Do you like me? she said, her heart beating. It heals it all up, that I can go into thee.