Quotes About Desire

I once bought an old car back after I sold it because I missed it so much and I had forgotten that it never ran. It was a British racing car. You know, because I just wanted it back. I could only remember what was good about it.

Oh, Rob, ye're alive!" Elspeth put both arms around his neck and hugged him close. "I was afeard ye were gone, but ye're alive!" "Aye, lass," he said with a sinful grin. "Completely alive." She was suddenly aware of the hardness of his groin against her belly and pulled back away from him.

He turned around to look at the house. Elspeth was behind one of the vellum-covered windows. Did she wonder where he was? If it had been high summer and the windows left uncovered to let in a breeze, would she have peeked out at him as he stood on the shoal, naked as God made him? He soaped up his groin. Just the thought that Elspeth might spy on him at his bath made part of him happier than it ought to be, considering the temperature.

When she first realized he was there watching her, she couldn't believe it was happening. There she was, bare as an egg, and his intense gaze made her lose the will to move. His stare had lingered at her breasts. She'd had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from covering her nipples with her hands to still the ache. And when his gaze traveled down her body, little flames seemed to lick her skin. When he smiled at her private parts, she caught fire completely.

She smelled faintly of heather and evergreen boughs. Scent was an extravagance. He wondered where she dabbed the fragrant oil. The thin skin of her wrists? The pulse point at her white throat? Or maybe in the sweet hollow between her breasts? Thinking about all of those soft, forbidden places made him feel rampantly, throbbingly male. He wanted to search out those tender spots, bury his nose in them, and lave them with his tongue.

Cómo no iba a venir? Me habría sido imposible, con lo enamorado que estoy de ti. Tú me perteneces. Ya he arriesgado la vida por ti varias veces antes, y volveré a hacerlo si fuera necesario. Cuando se quiere a alguien como yo te quiero, todo sacrificio es poco.

Pet me, touch me, love me, that's what I get when I perform. That's when I'm really getting what I want.

The inner urge that sets us seeking is itself the thing we are looking for. Karlfried Graf Durckheim

Although at times it may be frustrating and even painful to hold the tension of your yearning rather than to submerge it, when you align with it you align with the force of evolution itself.

And, when we continue to ask, "What do you want through that," at some point the answers always flip to something positive.

And, growing tired, we turn aside at last, remember our secret selves, seek out our towers, lay weary hands on the banisters, and climb; climbing, each, to his little four-square dream of love or lust or beauty or death or crime.

My veins are afire with music, her eyes have kissed me, my body is turned to light; I shall dream to her secret heart tonight.

A wife? A mistress rather ... he would not wed: that was to stoop in chains, renounce his wings, break body and heart and soul for daily bread, get down and crawl among all crawling things!

Youth yearns to youth, full blood loves full blood only.

The real thing, this! and all these endless days, these days of senseless drudgery, it was this that set his soul in fever -- in a craze -- to break away, to feel the crushing bliss of life that wars with life -- the seethe and hiss.

Her eyes, he says, are stars at dusk, Her mouth as sweet as red-rose-musk; And when she dances his young heart swells With flutes and viols and silver bells; His brain is dizzy, his senses swim, When she slants her ragtime eyes at him... Moonlight shadows, he bids her see, Move no more silently than she. It was this way, he says, she came, Into his cold heart, bearing flame. And now that his heart is all on fire Will she refuse his heart's desire??...

So, talking with my first wife, At the dark end of evening, when she leaned And smiled at me, with blue eyes weaving webs Of finest fire, revolving me in scarlet,-- Calling to mind remote and small successions Of countless other evenings ending so,-- I smiled, and met her kiss, and wished her dead

Epictetus stated, "When I see an anxious person, I ask myself, what do they want? For if a person didn´t want something outside of their own control, why would they be stricken by anxiety?

This man was different from all others; he was forbidden fruit, the outsider. Her mother had trained her well, but she had never told her what to do if a man set her heart to throbbing like the hooves of a runaway horse.

Will other women possess you?" she asked breathlessly. He turned his cheek and rested it against hers as he started moving slowly inside her. "I have never been possessed . . . until now," he said in a deep voice. "You have entered my blood, and nothing I can do will wipe your memory away.

She touched something deep inside him, and he wanted nothing more than to stand between her and any trouble that might come her way.

He Vows Every now and then he vows to live a better life. But when night comes with her own counsels, with her promises and her compromises, when night comes with her power over the body that seeks and yearns, he returns, lost, to the same fatal pleasures.

Vuelve a menudo y tómame, en la noche, cuando los labios y la piel recuerdan...

Return" Return often and take me, beloved sensation, return and take me -- when the memory of the body awakens, and an old desire runs again through the blood; when the lips and the skin remember, and the hands feel as if they touch again. Return often and take me at night, when the lips and the skin remember...