Quotes About Desire

each of us harboured the desire to make our own small contribution to the creation of a better world.

I'm surprised someone would desire so much a path that would leave her in loneliness. Until recently, I didn't think that humans could choose loneliness. That there were sometimes forces more powerful than the wish to avoid loneliness.

Because I don't want you coming against your will. That wouldn't be fair. I really want you to come, but if you said, Josie, I don't want to, then I'd say to Mom, okay, we can't have her, no way. But you do want to come, right?

Denialists are not speaking freely: they are speaking under the weight of an unspeakable burden. Restricting denialism is therefore not restricting free speech. By enabling the truly free expression of desire while simultaneously restricting denialism we could make an offer to denialists: either say what you really want or forever be silent.

That's what we all want, isn't it? Power without price.

Derek looked around, like he was searching for something to use. Then he stripped off his shirt. I tried not to look away. Not that he looked bad without his shirt. The opposite, actually, which is why...Let's just say friends are really better when they're fully clothed.

I wanted to walk over there. I wanted to curl up beside him, lean against him, talk to him. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. And I wanted him to tell me the same thing. I didn't care if it was true or not- I just wanted to say it. To hear it, to feel his arms around me, hear the rumble of his words, that deep chuckle that made me pulse race

I lifted onto my toes, put my hands aroung his neck, and pulled him down. When our lips met, that first jolt... It was everything I hadn't felt with Simon, everything I wanted to feel. His hands went around my waist, pulling me closer--

God, I loved him. I could insist I was okay with just being friends, that I'd find someone else and get over him, but I was fooling myself. There was no getting past this. I loved him, and fifty years from now we could be married to other people, never exchanged so much as a kiss, and I'd still looking into his eyes and know he was the one. He'd always be the one.

All I could think about was him, and how much I wanted this, and how incredibly lucky I was to get it, and how tight I was going to hold onto it.

I envied it; not the idea of having so much money that you could throw it away, but the thought of growing up in a world where someone cared so much about your happiness and so little about what you accomplished in life.

I leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes widened, then his lips parted and he kissed me back, mouth warm and firm against mine and that floating feeling washed over me and through me, and it was so amazing that when it ended, I just stayed there, my face so close to his I could feel his breath, see those incredible amber eyes, and that was all I could see, all I wanted to see.

Love and hate. Same passion. Same impulse

I spend four years chasing the guy of my dreams, finally get him, and now I have to compete with a gorgeous, twenty-year-old supernatural sex fiend. ~Jaime Vegas

We lay there a moment, entwined around each other, panting. Then I lifted my head to look at the room. Two broken lamps. One ripped pillowcase. One damaged headboard. Not bad ... Oh, shit. Was that a picture frame? Two picture frames. How the hell did we ...? I sighed. We'll snag the bill before Jeremy sees it, Clay said. I sighed louder. Bigger room, darling. Like I said, we need a bigger room.

It looked like I was the dead itself, and that isn't something someone should aspire to look like.

As my hair fell free, Cortez entwined his fingers in it and kissed me even harder. Then he slipped one hand from my hair and snapped his fingers over our heads. The lights went out.

So, is it too young for you? He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then ... wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath. Good answer? he said. Yep. You like them young. He flushed. That was not the message. Are you sure? Because it certainly seems-- He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss.

I envied it; not the idea of having so much money that you could throw it away, but the thought of growing up in a world where someone cared so much about your happiness and so little about what you accomplished in life.  

There'd been months when hunger seemed to be the driving force in his life.

You don't pursue happiness. You pursue everything you need to have a fulfilled life, and then, if you achieve it, you'll be happy some of the time. The rest of the time, you'll be content. One can't sustain happiness forever.

I hate you so much right now." He laughed, and it was a glorious thing to hear, and I wanted . . . I wanted more. I wanted to capture this mood and hold on to it.

Ambition is healthy. Obsession is not.

But that's what dreams are for—to weave reality and fantasy and memory and stitch together something you can't hope for in waking life. To fulfill that little part of you that wants something so bad.