Quotes About Desire

She'd become an idea. She was an abstract thing I wanted, a thing that I already had , really, if I could keep it.

I wanted to understand her. I wanted her, more dubiously, to understand me .

What I want and what's possible aren't necessarily compatible.

But, like lots of people she knew, she mostly wanted it so she wouldn't have to want it anymore, so that people would get off her back about how she didn't have any.

I just want her to be happy. But I don't think that's what she wants.

New York, which I had complained about for so long, became a beacon, a place I missed terribly whenever I was away and then glutted myself on until I was sick when I came back. You move away from the city and suddenly everyone wants to have drinks. Nobody'll hang out unless you leave.

Did you ever have the problem where you don't want to go where you're supposed to be, but you can't go where you want to be?

Had we but world enough, and time,This coyness, lady, were no crime.

Had we but World enough, and Time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapt power.

For Juliana comes, and she, what I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.

People who do not love themselves can adore others, because adoration is making someone else big and ourselves small. They can desire others, because desire comes out of sense of inner incompleteness, which demands to be filled. But they can not love others, because love is an affirmation of the living growing being in all of us. If you don't have it, you cant give it.

She wanted to be like you." Be like me? A socially ignorant bystander to the world?

She knows about men, knows a good deal of the world's character. But it is hard, whatever you have endured, to give up on love. Hard to stop thinking of it as a home you might one day find again. More than hard.

It was a childhood where she wanted for nothing materially but everything emotionally.

Prayer [is] the quiet, persistent living of our life of desire and faith in the presence of our God.

more unselfish than I had been. What was I doing now? Was I finally overcoming that? Were my needs demanding to be addressed, no matter what the potential risk? Was it my time? Did all adulterers go through a similar self-analysis or didn't they give it a second thought? It was certainly easier not to think about it. Could I do that? Could I avoid imagining Kelly's reaction when or if she found out?

Nothing or no one demands you be elsewhere before that happens?' 'No. Envy me?' 'Who wouldn't?' 'Oh, there are old home bodies, even your age or less, who couldn't care less about traveling and shedding responsibilities. You know that. Not everyone has that hunger, that thirst and desire to experience and consume from the wonderful smorgasbord waiting out there.

Did he ever love me as much as he loved all this? I didn't suspect him of going to porn on his computer. I never saw any evidence of that. It didn't take away his sexual energy exactly; it took away his attention and the energy to conduct any family socializing. It certainly dampened down romance.

Skype or FaceTime or whatever Internet magic puts husband and wife on a computer screen. Until they find a way to convey touch, it doesn't do more than increase your longing.

same battles were repeatedly replayed, marking out the library as a political space. Should readers in the new nineteenth-century public libraries have the books that they desired, or books that would make them better, more cultured people? This raging debate was still echoing deep into the twentieth century:

The object of their desire, the "essential" core of life, is something called authenticity, and finding the authentic has become the foremost spiritual quest of our time. It is a quest fraught with difficulty, as it takes place at the intersection of some of our culture's most controversial issues, including environmentalism and the market economy, personal identity and the consumer culture, and artistic expression and the meaning of life.

Every poet — every storyteller — requires motivation.

Missing someone feels like hunger. An insatiable emptiness right at the core of yourself.