Quotes About Desire

Distraction is married to discontent

Everybody loves something, even if it's only tortillas.

The problem is that the desire to change is fundamentally a form of aggression toward yourself. The other problem is that our hang-ups, unfortunately or fortunately, contain our wealth. Our neurosis and our wisdom are made out of the same material. If you throw out your neurosis, you also throw out your wisdom.

this letting things go is sometimes called nonattachment, but not with the cool, remote quality often associated with that word. this nonattachment has more kindness and more intimacy than that. it's actually a desire to know, like the questions of a three-year-old. we want to know our pain so we can stop endlessly running. we want to know our pleasure so we can stop endlessly grasping.

Por qué cree que abrir una librería es inverosímil?-le gritó al viento-. ¿La gente de Hadborough no quiere comprar libros? -Han perdido el deseo por las cosas raras -dijo (...)-. (...) Y no me diga usted que los libros no constituyen una rareza en sí mismos. (La librería)

Por qué cree que abrir una librería es inverosímil?-. ¿La gente de Hardborough no quiere comprar libros? -Han perdido el deseo por las cosas raras-dijo (...). (...) Y no me diga usted que los libros no constituyen una rareza en sí mismos.

Opportunity, after all, is only another word for temptation.

But time giving to wishing for what can't be is not only spent, but wasted, and for all that we waste we shall be accountable.

I can admire, but I no longer covet. Books of course are another matter; books are not acquisitions, they are necessities.

Matt knew only that he must see her again, and forever.

Helen recognised that she, and Edward, and Dorothy herself, for that matter, were not as others are when it came to possession. She seldom wanted anything. Edward was the same. Her mother had hated spending money, not out of parsimony but laziness. Whatever it was in the make-up of most people that responds to the sight of goods for sale had been left out, in their case.

The cupidity centered on bank statements and shareholdings is more difficult to understand than the avarice of an Elizabethan trader.

Calm down, she tells herself. Just because this has never happened to you before. Because you have reached the ripe age of thirty-one without knowing this peculiar derangement. For derangement is what it surely is; only by stern physical effort can she keep herself from looking at him, touching him.

Find something to do,' says Claudia. I can't, shouts Lisa, I can't I can't I can't I don't know where to find it I don't know where to look I want pink fingernails like yours I want to be you not me I want to make you look at me I want you to say Lisa how pretty you are.

Clara, you ask too much. You are always asking for too much, even when you're not asking for anything.

É isso o amor. Manter a ternura pelo mesmo homem, embora se deseje outros a momentos diferentes.

A cup of coffee, a cigarette, the penetrating aroma of its smoke, myself sitting in a shadowy room with eyes half-closed...I want no more from life than my dreams and this...It doesn't seem much? I don't know. What do I know about what is little and what is a lot?

In sexual love we seek our own pleasure through the intermediary of another's body. In non-sexual love, we seek our own pleasure through the intermediary of an idea we have. The onanist may be an abject creature but in truth he is the logical expression of the lover. He is the only one who neither diguises nor deludes himself.

The cowardly love we all have of freedom - which if it were given to us we would all repudiate as being too new and strange - is the irrefutable proof of how our slavery weighs upon us. Even I, who have just expressed my desire to have a hut or a cave where I could be free from the monotony of being myself, would I really dare to go off to this hut or cave, knowing and understanding that, since the monotony exists in me alone, I would never be free of it?

Yet the stomach for war breeds an appetite for money.

dyer. (Looking at him scornfully) So that is why Wits swarm like Egypt's Frogs. If I were a Writer now, I would wish to thicken the water of my Discourse so that it was no longer easy or familiar. I would chuse a huge lushious Style! vannbrugghe. (Interrupting) Ah the music of Erudition, it is unimaginable to weaker Wits. dyer. (Ignoring him) I would imploy outlandish Phrases and fantasti-call Terms, thus to restore Terrour, Reverence and Desire like wild Lightning.

History is about longing and belonging. It is about the need for permanence and the perception of continuity. It concerns the atavistic desire to find deep sources of identity.

What you lost weakened you, could kill you. What you wanted kept you going. What you wanted gave you strength.

No matter what skullduggery and death Fitzy later caused no matter how great a coward & liar he proved himself I still believe he never wanted no more than this in life and when he danced with that bosomy Belinda at Mrs Robinson's there were no malice in him.