Quotes About Desire

To show you what you would not otherwise believe,' Locke said. 'Envy. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. They're all spices.' He laughed at my expression. 'What is bread without salt? Desire can grow just as plain.' 'I don't understan-' He put a finger against my mouth. 'Not every lover can appreciate such spices. But I think you can.

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven's wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girl's heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.

I hate you," I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. "Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.

The more horrible the story, the more it is cherished. Faeries may not be able to lie, but stories grow here as they do anywhere, fed on ambition and envy and desire.

I always supposed I would be delicious,' I hear him say.

I hate the way I cling to him, the nails of one hand digging into his back, my thoughts splintering, and the single last thing in my head: that I like him better than I've ever liked anyone and that of all the things he's ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.

Okay. Do you ever feel so angry that you think you could devour the whole world and still not be satisfied? Like you don't know how to stop feeling that way and it scares you, but that just makes you angry too?

Mother Marrow gestures to the soup, and I, who can afford no more enemies, bring it to my lips. It tastes of a memory I cannot quite place, warm afternoons and splashing in pools and kicking plastic toys across the brown grass of summer lawns. Tears spring to my eyes. I want to spill it out in to the dirt. I want to drink it down to the dregs.

He likes you this way, I think,' Cardan says. 'Flush-cheeked and furious.' 'I don't care what he likes,' I spit out. 'You seem to not care quite a lot.' His voice is dry, and when I look at him, I cannot read his face.

If it's nice, perhaps the smith will make you a cup that never runs out of wine." Carden gives me a look up through his lashes that I find hard to interpret and rises, too. He takes my hand. "Nothing is sweeter," he says, kissing the back of it, "but that which is scarce.

Power is infectious. Power is greedy.

He kisses me again, and it's like falling off a cliff. Like a mountain slide, building momentum with every touch, until there is only crashing destruction ahead.

He leans in and closes his eyes. "Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." I am shocked into silence. "Maybe you should shoot me after all," he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand.

I remember his definition of magic vividly: "the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with will.

Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it is sated, it transmutes. If we receive the golden thread, we desire the golden needle.

I look into his eyes. His hand slides to my hip, as though he might pull me closer. For a dizzy, stupid moment, something seems to shimmer in the air between us. page 98

I know I shouldn't love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same

I can see why humans succumb to the beautiful nightmare of the Court, why they willingly drown in it.

I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them.

It's okay to want something that's going to hurt, I remind myself.

I like him better than I've ever liked anyone and that of all the things he's ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.

Quiero que mi nombre desaparezca de sus labios.

Quiero que mi nombre desaparezca de tus labios.

kiss me until i'm sick of it