Quotes About Desire

Art, true art, is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.

When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. Streets coming fast, One after the other, Wedge you away from me, And the lamps of the city prick my eyes So that I can no longer see your face. Why should I leave you, To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.

Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, And drench me in loneliness.

Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.

Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer.

When you came, you were like red wine and honey, And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. Now you are like morning bread, Smooth and pleasant. I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour, But I am completely nourished.

And as nearer and ever nearer I felt the throb of your tread, To be in the world grew dearer, And my blood ran rosier red.

Keats longed for fame, but longed above all to deserve it.

Aspiration sees only one side of every question; possession, many.

Two meanings have our lightest fantasies -- One of the flesh, and of the spirit one.

Some feelings are stronger than fear: love, longing, desire.

a pigeon would die of hunger next to a dish filled with choice meats and a cat next to a heap of fruit or grain, though either of them could get nourishment from the foods it disdains if only it had thought of trying them. This is why dissolute men give themselves over to the excesses that bring on fevers and death, because the mind perverts the senses and the will continues to speak when nature falls silent …

quod defles, illud amasti.

Know what Freud wrote in his diary when he was 77? "What do women want? My God, what do they want?" Fifty years this giant brain spends analyzing women. And he still can't find out what they want. So this makes him the world's greatest expert on female psychology?

I wish I were a virgin again. The only fun I ever had was holding out.

Each sex has a relation to madness. Every desire has a relation to madness. But it would seem that one desire has been taken as wisdom, moderation, truth, leaving to the other sex the weight of a madness that cannot be acknowledged or accommodated.

I don't think I ever really liked the world until I met him.

I get mad at everyone because they are working, living. Sometimes I hate you because you're not dying. Isn't that awful?

Dipendesse da me non farei altro che viaggiare. Vorrei

You are the one I am lit for. Come with your rod that twists and is a serpent. I am the bush. I am burning I am not consumed.

and at night my dreams are full of the cursing of me fucking god fucking me.

Maybe I should have wanted less. Maybe I should have ignored the bowl in me burning to be filled. Maybe I should have wanted less.

For greed all nature is too little.