Quotes About Desire

I'm not melancholic,' she protested, but the thin ice was under her feet again, the uncertainties. or was it that she always wanted a little more than she had, no matter how much she had?

Once the back of their hands brushed on the table, and Therese's skin there felt seperately alive and rather burning. There could not understand it, but it was so. Therese glanced at her face that was somewhat turned away, and again she knew that instant of half-recognition. And knew, too, that it was not to be believed. She had never seen the woman before. If she had, could she had forgotten?

Don't you know I love you?' Carol said.

It shook Therese in the profoundest part of her where no words were, no easy words like death or dying or killing Those words were somehow future, and this was present. An inarticulate anxiety, a desire to know, know anything for certain, had jammed itself in her throat for a moment she felt she could hardly breathe.

Yet the way she felt about Carol passed all the tests for love and fitted all the descriptions.

Caviar. How very nice of them, Carol said, looking inside a sandwich. Do you like caviar? No. I wish I did. Why? Therese watched Carol take a small bite of the sandwich from which she had removed the top slice of bread, a bit where the most caviar was. Because people always like caviar so much when they do like it, Therese said. Carol smiled, and went on nibbling, slowly. It's an acquired taste. Acquired tastes are always more pleasant--an hard to get rid of.

She wished the tunnel might cave in and kill them both, that their bodies might be dragged out together.

Yes, Therese said. What a strange girl you are. Why? Flung out of space, Carol said.

She probably had all the time in the world, Therese thought, probably did nothing all day but what she felt like doing.

That night, talking over the road map about their route tomorrow, talking as matter-of-factly as a couple of strangers, Therese thought surely tonight would not be like last night. But when they kissed good night in bed, Therese felt their sudden release, that leap of response in both of them, as if their bodies were of some materials, which put together inevitably created desire.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?" "Always," Carol said

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?' 'Always,' Carol said, smiling, too

Therese leaned closer toward it, looking down at her glass. She wanted to thrust the table aside and spring into her arms, to bury her nose in the green and gold scarf that was tied close about her neck. Once the backs of their hands brushed on the table, and Therese's skin there felt separately alive now, and rather burning.

and wished with all her power to wish anything, that the woman would simply continue her last words and say, "Are you really so glad to have met me? Then why can't we see each other again? Why can't we even have lunch together today?" Her voice was so casual, and she might have said it so easily.

Beyond Sicily came Greece. He definitely wanted to see Greece. He wanted to see Greece as Dickie Greenleaf with Dickie's money, Dickie's clothes, Dickie's way of behaving with strangers. But would it happen that he couldn't see Greece as Dickie Greenleaf? Would one thing after another come up to thwart him—murder, suspicion, people? He hadn't wanted to murder, it had been a necessity.

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? The Price of Salt [Carol is the film based on this title.]

Therese said, still laughing, laughing away all the longing and the intention of the night.

He resented the fact that she wasn't and never could be what he wished her to be, a girl who loved him passionately […] A girl like herself, with her face, her ambitions, but a girl who adored him.

Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don't want to die without knowing you. Do you feel the same way, Carol? She could have said the last question, but she could not have said all that went before it.

Her arms were tight around Carol, and she was conscious of Carol and nothing else, of Carol's hand that slid along her ribs, Carol's hair that brushed her bare breasts, and then her body too seemed to vanish in widening circles that leaped further and further, beyond where thought could follow.

It would be almost like love, what she felt for Carol, except that Carol was a woman. It was not quite insanity, but it was certainly blissful.

Therese Belivet: I never asked for anything! Maybe that's the problem!

Carol: My angel, flung out of space.

Carol, te quiero. Carol se irguió. Therese la miró con sus ojos intensos y adormilados. Carol acabo de sacar su pijama de la maleta y bajó la tapa. Se acerco a Therese y le puso las manos en los hombros. Se los apretó con fuerza, como si le exigiera una promesa, o quizá intentado averiguar si lo habia dicho de verdad. Luego la besó en los labios como si ya se hubieran besado millones de veces. - ¿Tú no sabes que te quiero?- dijo Carol.