Quotes About Desire

Could I come near your beauty with my nailsI'd set my ten commandments in your face.

They surfeited with honey and beganTo loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a littleMore than a little is by much too much.

The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.

As a surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings.

This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,Liege of all loiters and malcontents.

O thou weed!Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweetThat the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,My gay apparel for an almsman's gown.

Great with child, and longing… for stewed prunes.

At Christmas I no more desire a roseThan wish a snow in May's newfangled mirth;But like of each thing that in season grows.

Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination.

You do as chapmen do,Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy.

Who riseth from a feastWith that keen appetite that he sits down?

Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.

Jaques: What stature is she of?Orlando: Just as high as my heart.

I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.

No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en;In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded flyDoes lecher in my sight.Let copulation thrive.

Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

I do not ask you much:I beg cold comfort.

Who lin'd himself with hope,Eating the air on promise of supply.

Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

Take, O take those lips away,That so sweetly were forsworn;And those eyes, the break of day,Lights that do mislead the morn:But my kisses bring again, bring again,Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.

All impediments in fancy's courseAre motives of more fancy.

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-color'd taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.