Quotes About Desire

She was thinking of the advantages she would have if only she were someone else.

What we find to love or to hate comes to us as a substitute for something else.

But love is love. It makes you do terribly stupid things.

Knowing he was suffering pained me. That's the way love tangles you up. I couldn't stop loving him, and couldn't shut off the feelings of wanting to care for him— but I also didn't have to run to answer his letters. I was hurting, too, and no one was running to me.

There was only today to throw yourself into without thinking about tomorrow, let alone forever. To keep you from thinking, there was liquor, an ocean's worth at least, all the usual vices and plenty of rope to hang yourself with. Love is a beautiful liar.

I'd like it if you could love me for a little while at least.

I would gladly have climbed out of my skin and into his that night, because I believed that was what love meant.

He lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply, the tip flaring an angry red. "Isn't love a beautiful goddamn liar?

You make your life with someone and you love that person and you think it's enough. But it's never enough, is it? I couldn't say. I don't know anything about love anymore.

What's wrong with all of us, Bill? Can you tell me that?' 'Hell if I know', he said. 'We drink too much for starters. And we want too much, don't we?

All her stories seemed to involve rowboats and ukuleles, full moons and campfires and grog. I was desperately jealous.

I loved him for a full year and then, in one night, all my wishing came apart.

Because everyone wants to be looked for, whether they realize it or not.

I wanted something grand and sweeping." "The kind of love you find in novels?" "Maybe. That makes me incredibly stupid, I suppose.

You make your life with someone and you love that person and you think it's enough. But it's never enough, is it?

I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.

I was falling in love, and it was wonderful, and it was awful.

I have so many schemes about writing – so much I want to see and feel and do.

He wanted them both, but there was no having everything, and love couldn't help him now. Nothing could help him but bravery, and what was that anyhow?

He wanted everything there was to have, and more than that.

Strolling, I felt the dark tug at me, and a pleasant itch to be out of my dress, out of my skin even.

His eyes cut sideways at me in the mirror, and my pulse quickened. It was something to have his attention, even briefly. Like a bright light passing my way before moving on.

Kiss her until she be wearied out,' " Denys repeated. "That's the best bit, isn't it, and Berkeley does it so well.

Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris