Quotes About Desire

We all do it (or I used to-yes, once in a while, Franklin, what did you think?), we all know we all do it, but it isn't customary to say, "Honey, could you keep an eye on the spaghetti sauce, because I'm going to go masturbate.

However gnawing a deficiency, satiety is worse... We are meant to be hungry.

I always prefer socializing at night-it is implicitly more wanton

my very ravenousness for the exotic was self-destructive, because as soon as I seized upon the otherworldly, it joined this world and didn't count.

Real poverty is about doing what you have to do as opposed to what you want.

The last thing we want to admit is that the forbidden fruit on which we have been gnawing since reaching the magic age of twenty-one is the same mealy Golden Delicious that we stuff into our children's lunch boxes.

In truth, we are bigger, greedier versions of the same eating, shitting, rutting ruck, hell-bent on disguising from somebody, if only from a three-year-old, that pretty much all we do is eat and shit and rut. The secret is there is no secret. That is what we really wish to keep from our kids, and its suppression is the true collusion of adulthood, the pact we make, the Talmud we protect.

Picture how bitterly hordes of the frustrated, disappointed, and dispossessed would greet any complaint about being too satisfied and too wealthy. Be that as it may, it really isn't a very nice sensation not to want anything. Thwarted hopes are no picnic, but desire itself is energizing.

Incredibly, the self-starved never appear capable of taking any pleasure in the very vessel for which they've sacrificed.

Alguna vez has intentado hacer realidad una fantasía sexual? No tiene gracia. Es desagradable e incómodo, o afectado. Cuando vas a hacerla realidad, no te excita. La fantasía funciona mejor mientras sigue siendo una fantasía. La dejas salir al mundo y termina pareciendo una placenta deforme y toda ensangrentada.

I wondered if that wasn't the answer to the mystery, countrywide. It wasn't that eating was so great-it wasn't-but that nothing was great. Eating being merely okay still put it head and shoulders above everything else that was decidedly less than okay.

Ese altruismo compulsivo parecía abnegación, sacrificio, pero era algo más escalofriante. Si Carol ya no tenía ni la más remota idea de lo que podía desear para ella, ¿qué sacrificaba? A Jackson le entristeció observar que, con los años, su mujer había reemplazado de un modo insidioso el placer con la virtud.

Se supone que los hombres piensan en el sexo todo el tiempo, pero él ya no lo hacía, y ahora lo recordaba con tanta fuerza que dolía.

A lot of people get so hung up on what they can't have that they don't think for a second about whether they really want it.

How lucky we are, when we're spared what we think we want!

In the most secret heart of every intellectual ... there lies hidden ... the hope of power, the desire to bring his ideas to reality by imposing them on his fellow man.

I see no reason in morality, why literature should not have as one of its intentions the arousing of thoughts of lust. It is one of the effects, perhaps one of the functions of literature to arouse desire, and I can discover no grounds for saying that sexual pleasure should not be among the objects of desire which literature presents to us, along with heroism, virtue, peace, death, food, wisdom, God, etc.

Life can be swamped by sex very easily if sex is not normally satisfied.

When a man and woman are successfully in love, their whole activity is energized and victorious. They walk better, their digestion improves, they think more clearly, their secret worries drop away, the world is fresh and interesting, and they can do more than they dreamed that they could do. In love of this kind sexual intimacy is not the dead end of desire as it is in romantic or promiscuous love, but periodic affirmation of the inward delight of desire pervading an active life.

Love is a tempestuous mistress. And none of us shall ever master her.

The song is languid and speaks of love and loneliness and loss. Why does love seem to go with the sad things?

found myself remembering the strong breadth of his chest, the narrow span of his hips. And his lovemaking…

I have a desire to create more film, more beauty, more art, more love, but I don't feel desperate. It's not about creating or building a career.

Foolishly romantic, yeah, sure, maybe: but she'd rather have dreams of Prince Charming than the reality of Mr. Wrong.