Quotes About Desire

Without dreams, life is a desert.

I've come to know that what we want in life is the greatest indication of who we really are.

I don't want to go to Peru." How do you know? You've never been there." I've never been to hell either and I'm pretty sure I don't want to go there.

Then, as he pulled her supple body atop him,

the couple's low moans increased in pace and intensity.

His eyes devoured the curves of her form as she dressed.

In the words of Morelly, the author of the influential treatise Le Code de la Nature, published in 1755: The only vice which I know in the universe is avarice; all the others, whatever name one gives them, are merely forms, degrees of it. . . . Analyze vanity, conceit, pride, ambition, deceitfulness, hypocrisy, villainy; break down the majority of our sophisticated virtues themselves, [they] all dissolve in this subtle and pernicious element, the desire to possess.

The desire to live in our imagination is driven by this suspicion that we're disembodied sensibilities cobbled into our bodies. That idea has infused most of human thought since the very beginning.

I'd love to be a saxophonist. I don't know why, but I pretend I'm the saxophonist when I listen to music. I have about as much chance playing the sax as I do learning how to fly.

The vitality of a human life can be measured by the intensity of one's desire. We know we are truly alive when we experience a drive for the "more" life. Human desire or longing is the source of our spiritual energy.

Most is God for to be loved: mickle are heavenly things for to be loved: little, or nought but for need, are earthly things to be loved. Withouten doubt thus every man is turned to Christ whiles nought is desired by him but only Christ.

The sad, fucking truth was that no matter who you are, you never, ever, get your fill.

She was a tall, firm, abundantly curvaceous, lovely with pollen-gold hair and a shape to make corpses kick open caskets.

I'm the boy who's going to glom onto this junk—if I'm lucky.

My dad once told me something when I was young and having boyfriend problems. He said all guys are guided by three things: their head, their heart and their dick. And those three things are always fighting with each other inside guys to be the one that makes the decisions. So, my question to you, young man, is which one guides you when you want to be with me?

He knows that there is something wrong, forbidden in what he is about to do, but he cannot help himself, for he is a fanatic. He is driven by a dark desire. To see, to feel, to discover is all. His is a passion, not a romance.

Live desired in the world, and die lamented.

I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way. I gave shape to my fears and made excuses. I varied my velocities, watched myselves sleep. Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it-- living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling. The enormity of my desire disgusts me.

with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it's all I have, because I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me 'cause I couldn't make you love me and I'm tired of pulling your teeth.

Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.

You wanted happiness, I can't blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you're not miserable.

We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars as the road around us grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through the glass already laced with frost, but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of lullabies. But damn if there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I'm alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.

We pull our boots on with both hands but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.