Quotes About Desire

At the top the bridge with the stars shining above the harbor, I look to the north and wish again that there were two lives apportioned to every man and woman.

He was ruled by the tyranny of instinct, by passion and the instant legislation of a simple heart.

Lucy stood on her tiptoes and kissed John Hardin on the cheek and pulled him tightly against her. She put his forehead against hers and smiled at him until he blushed. Then, Lucy stepped back, looked at the coffin, and played to the crowd. Who gave my secret away It's just what I always wanted and I can't wait to try it on

M]otherlessness caused one of the great thirsts of the human condition.

They strode with purpose, armed with resolution, whereas everything I did seemed insubstantial and forced. I longed for engagement, intrusion, and a little more Mardi Gras than Lent in my life.

Secrets I am all secrets now. I know when you walk into a room. I don't need to see or hear you behind me, but I know you're there and wish you'd touch my shoulder when you walk by. How can you do that, without a sound, send electricity, a current through a room full of people? When did this crazy secret life start? People see me but don't see I've changed. The me people see isn't the tangled me inside, trying not to think about you, your laugh splashing like a waterfall on a hot summer day.

The tragic irony of our misconceptions about heaven is that the reality of heaven is what every human heart truly desires. The biblical heaven is a place of exquisite beauty, boundless pleasure and endless joy—a place where we will be reunited with the ones we love. God Himself planted those desires within us so that we would want to be with Him for eternity. We were made for heaven.

Ist?rab?n sebepleri her ÅŸeyi olduÄŸu gibi görmemek, 'Ben' hissi, ba??ml?l?k, hoÅŸlanmama ve yaÅŸama tutunmad?r.

Morgan, he whispered, I wish you had not been someone I loved so.

Oh, yes. He felt the pearls brush down his face again. Dory turned: he met her eyes and let her see the new pearls forming. Anything that beautiful is terrible. Because it's outside of you. It's not you. You'll do anything to make it part of you. You'd eat it, drown in it, kill it, let it kill you. Anything to stop it from not being you.

I need you." "You must be careful," he whispered. "You must be so careful. Every need is a path to her.

The human world is a cold and bitter place: nothing lasts in it. You must know that by now…. What did you imagine you were doing in those two rooms? Trying to turn yourself human?" "Yes," Corbet said, so simply that for a breath he rendered his father incapable of moving.

That, apparentlu, was what happened when one fell in love. One's brains were sucked away, or turned gelatinous.

Maybe when you care, terribly, painfully, about the shape of the world, and you desire nothing but absolute, radical change, you protect yourself with abstraction, distance.

What was it about a woman—a certain kind of woman—standing at the mercy of men—righteous, civic-minded men, with the moral force of public outrage on their side—that could sometimes be secretly, shamefacedly titillating?

In my reading, I sought a contemporary, someone who lived what I thought of as my "other life," the one not lived, but so lavishly imagined and desired that it felt not like another life, but a version of my own. You feel—I did—deep contentment when you find such a life expressed by a writer who has lived it, as if in reading that life you (sort of) live it too.

The longing for solitude is a deeply romantic passion. But then writing is a romantic thing to do, predicated on desire, urgency, and an ideal of human connection, hardly available in what we wistfully call real life.

They roared into the Lincoln Tunnel. A wild, inexplicable excitement mounted in Therese as she stared through the windshield. She wished the tunnel might cave in and kill them both, that their bodies might be dragged out together. She felt Carol glancing at her from time to time.

What else mattered except being with Carol, anywhere, anyhow?

But even that question wasn't definite enough. Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don't want to die yet without knowing you.

Thinking no more about it, he stepped off into that cool space, that fast descent to her, with nothing in his mind but a memory of a curve of her shoulder, naked, as he had never seen it.

In the middle of the block, she opened the door of a coffee shop, but they were playing one of the songs she had heard with Carol everywhere, and she let the door close and walked on. The music lived, but the world was dead. And the song would die one day, she thought, but how would the world come back to life? How would its salt come back?

Tom envied him with a heartbreaking surge of envy and self-pity.

And the hopelessness of herself, of ever being the person she wanted to be and of doing the things that person would do. Had all her life been nothing but a dream, and was this real?