Quotes About Desire

Fence my sacred fire I want. To be simple, black & clean A dim nothingness Please The sea is green Smoke like the child's version of a Christmas dream w/no waking.

Dreams are the wind of the mind.

you might think it wasn't real nice to kick a dying man, and maybe it wasn't, but I'd been wanting to kick him for a long time, and it just never had seemed safe till now

It looked like I'd sold my pottage for a mess of afterbirth, as the saying is. I'd been chasing females all my life, not paying no mind to the fact that whatever's got tail at one end has teeth at the other, and now I was getting chomped on.

Sure there's a hell... I could hear him saying it now, now, as I lay here on bed with her breath in my face, and her body squashed against me... It is the drab desert where the sun sheds neither warmth nor light and Habit force-feeds senile Desire. It is the place here mortal Want dwells with immortal Necessity, and the night becomes hideous with the groans of one and the ecstatic shrieks of the other. Yes, there is a hell, my boy, and you do not have to dig for it.

If the Good Lord made a mistake in us people it was in making us want to live when we've got the least excuse for it.

That's what she keeps you around for, to diddle her fiddle. Because you're low-hung and she's high-strung!

No we don't want a bucket of blood Just a cup is all we could use

If it's only a kiss you want, I can kiss you with my clothes on." —Katie O'Reilly to Captain Lord Blackthorn

We are so lonely here, with only our loved ones for company. We kill, maim, insult our loved ones, or dream of doing so, to keep from going mad. And then disaster strikes. God, how we love disaster.

Without desire how is it possible to make a story?

My case rests on the rights of desire,' he says. 'On the god who makes even the small birds quiver.

My case rests on the rights of desire,' he says. 'On the god who makes even the small birds quiver.' (11)

Sorte é isto. Merecer e ter.

Esses gerais são sem tamanho., Enfim, cada um o que quer aprova, o senhor sabe: pão ou pães, é questão de opiniães... O sertão está em toda a parte.

I need sex for a clear complexion, but I'd rather do it for love.

love is fire. but whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house,you can never tell.

We were not having any fun, he had recently begun pointing out. I would take exception (didn't we do this, didn't we do that) but I had also known what he meant. He meant doing things not because we were expected to do them or had always done them or should do them but because we wanted to do them. He meant wanting. He meant living.

I was not going to Honolulu because I wanted to see life reduced to a short story. I was going to Honolulu because I wanted to see life expanded to a novel, and I still do.

Because when we start deceiving ourselves into thinking not that we want something or need something, not that it is a pragmatic necessity for us to have it, but that it is a moral imperative that we have it, then is when we join the fashionable madmen, and then is when the thin whine of hysteria is heard in the land, and then is when we are in bad trouble. And I suspect we are already there.

It was the kind of Sunday to make one ache for Monday morning.

Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write. I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.

It had seemed this past month as if they were all one, that her life had been a single sexual encounter, one dreamed fuck, no beginnings or endings, no point beyond itself.

Why make this call and not just say what you wanted? His eyes. His blue eyes. His blue imperfect eyes.