Quotes About Desire

You wish you had not come. If there were not so many around, you would reach out your arms, with the prayer on your lips for it all to come back to you. It seems cruel, cruel, to give us such a vision; to let us dream and drift through heaven for six months, and then to take it out of our lives.

And just before the heat wave, a rising young British writer had published a scalding essay on Chicago. "Having seen it," Rudyard Kipling wrote, "I desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages.

If you cannot give me all that I want—what my heart finds it hard now to breathe without—it is because I am not worthy. I know instinctively you could give it if I were—and if you understood,—understood the boy's heart that is in me and the simplicity of my need, which you could fill so that all my days would be radiant.

All he asked of life was the best of everything.

As she put it, "All he asked of life was the best of everything.

His demand for fine things, especially those rendered in gold, was fed as well by a kind of institutional larceny.

As bombs fell, libidos soared. . . Young people were reluctant to contemplate death without having shared their bodies with someone else. It was sex at its sweetest: not for money or marriage, but for love of being alive and wanting to give.

Ambition had been the curse of my husband's life. He wanted to attain a position where he would be honored and respected. He wanted wealth.

What he craved was possession and the power it gave him; what he adored was anticipation - the slow acquisition of love, then life, and finally the secrets within. The ultimate disposition of the material was irrelevant, a recreation.

I remembered this guy. Spade was the sixty-year-old version of the boys I had found irresistible in high school: brilliant, misunderstood, full of shit, and deeply sexy in a way that only I could appreciate. I felt a low gyration start in my hips that I hadn't felt in years.

Sex with Jonas was okay, but he was unsatisfied. According to him I was supposed to be having orgasms, but I had no idea what that was or how to do it. It didn't matter to me, I loved fucking and I just wanted to be close to him.

Diesel better have a big dick, that's all she was saying.

Jess? Yeah? Would you be okay with it if I fell in love with you? My hear squeezed and I paused, my mouth a hairbreadth from his as I took in his words, as if I could breathe them into my mouth, my heart, my soul. Yeah, I whispered. I'd be very okay with it.

I want to have sex with you he told her back. Touch you until you squirm with pleasure. Laurel's head shot around. What did you say? Oh, shit. He had never actually verified how much or how little Laurel could hear.

Pulling his weight back off of her, he nodded over his shoulder. "Show me what's in the bedroom." Though her body leapt in expectation, she tried to play it cool. "Oh, just a dresser, a TV, a dead stuffed deer, and, oh, yeah, a bed." "Forget the deer. Show me how the bed works.

Reese grabbed the back of the nearest easy chair and whispered, Honey, baby, come to mama.

Harley studied his erection, lightly running her fingers over the smooth skin. His cock jumped at her touch. It was a pretty penis, she had to say. Good length, pleasing circumference. Not too big, not too small... the Goldilocks of cocks. Just right.

most of the time, but I didn't want anything

Because if you're drunk on sex and love, then I'm fucking wasted.

I'd pull your pants down and let you ride me right here.

You have eyes that hold me so tightly I could fight for the rest of my life and I'll never escape.

Okay, so maybe she had entertained the idea once--or nine hundred times--of cupping his backside and giving a nice, hard little squeeze, but she would never act on it. Probably. She was pretty sure. But definitely, if she did, she would know it. Savor it. Make it count.

To be honest, I was more interested in sexually objectifying you than talking about your salary." Olek eyed me. "Damn." The corner of his mouth turned up. "Again, we're back to the future 'how I met your mother' story. She wasn't a gold digger, son, she just wanted my dick.

that back of this wall was a vast yearning, a loneliness of soul which craved companionships the personality repelled.