Quotes About Desire

Every living being strives for happiness. Every being wants to avoid all forms of suffering.

If any object, achievement, or relationship was a true cause of happiness, then whoever had such a thing should be happy. But no such thing has ever been found," continued Lobsang. "What's saddest of all is that if we believe that our happiness depends on something we don't currently have, then we can't be happy here and now. Yet here and now is the only time we can be happy. We can't be happy in the future; it doesn't yet exist.

If we believe that our happiness depends on something we don't currently have, then we cant be happy here and now. Yet here and now is the only time we can be happy. We cant be happy in future; it doesn't yet exist.

Attachment is when we believe that a person, a thing or an outcome is necessary for our happiness

Everything begins with intention,

Surviving is one thing," he said quietly, his voice suddenly calmer, "but you've got to have a reason to do it. There's no point in living if you don't have anything worth living for.

If he had really wanted to control himself, he could have. He simply had not wanted to control himself. To live his way, he had been determined to fight anyone who interfered. So all right then, in a way he had fought for a principle. But it was not that simple, because he had also been proud and delighted to show how good he was at fighting.

Why can't you just love me? Why can't you just be in love with me?

For his thirtieth birthday he had filled a whole night-club off Regent Street; people had been queuing on the pavement to get in. The SIM card of his mobile phone in his pocket was overflowing with telephone numbers of all the hundreds of people he had met in the last ten years, and yet the only person he had ever wanted to talk to in all that time was standing now in the very next room.

The sad fact is that I love Dickens and Donne and Keats and Eliot and Forster and Conrad and Fitzgerald and Kafka and Wilde and Orwell and Waugh and Marvell and Greene and Sterne and Shakespeare and Webster and Swift and Yeats and Joyce and Hardy, really, really love them. It's just that they don't love me back.

What must that be like? To be admired before you've even said a word, to be desired two or three hundred times a day by people who have absolutely no idea what you're like?

Everything was fine, and she had the rare, new sensation of being exactly where she wanted to be.

Why can't you just love me? Why can't you just be in love with me? You were once, weren't you? In the beginning?

He] didn't like to think of himself as vain, but there were definitely times when he wished there was someone on hand to take his photograph.

But how can you not like music? That's the same as not liking food! Or sex!

From an evolutionary point of view, most emotions – fear, desire, anger – serve some practical purpose, but nostalgia is a useless, futile thing because it is a longing for something that is permanently lost, and I felt its futility now.

At some point, I'd like to have an origina l idea. And I'd like to be fancied, or maybe loved even, but I'll wait and see.

And is that what love looks like -- all wet mouths and your skirt rucked up?" "Sometimes it is.

And is that what love looks like - all wet mouth sand your skirt rucked up?

And there it is again, the look. There's no doubt about it, if Sylvie had a receipt, she would have taken him back by now; this one's gone wrong. It's not what I wanted.

The truth is that my heart felt like a fist trying to punch its way though my rib-cage - not from the excitement of it all, though it was thrilling, but from a sense that finally, finally something good was about to happen to me. I felt the proximity of change, and I had wanted more than anything for something in my life to change. Is it still possible to feel like that, I wonder? Or does it only happen to us once?

Maybe they're in love." "And is that what love looks like - all wet mouths and your skirt rucked up?" "Sometines it is.

she might even enjoy it. The few times that she'd gone to bed with boys she had always ended up giggling or weeping and it might be nice to try for something in between. She wondered if

Wasn't this exactly one of the experiences she craved? Why couldn't she be more spontaneous and reckless?