Quotes About Desire

Sad old blokes, I'm told, now dream of me with a whip in hand.

She reminded Kevin again that she had forced herself to turn and walk away from him when everything in her wanted to stay.

O starry night, This is how I want to die

Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen....

God owns heaven but He craves the earth.

And tonight our skin, our bones, that have survived our fathers, will meet, delicate in the hold, fastened together in an intricate lock. Then one of us will shout, "My need is more desperate!" and I will eat you slowly with kisses even though the killer in you has gotten out.

Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there, says kill me, kill me.

I burn the way money burns.

But I can't. Need is not quite belief.

Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

Need is not quite belief.

The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.

I never seemed to like the spring for what it was; I always loved it for what it might have been. In the head. In the heart of hearts. It is in my ability, I think, to love something fully only if I am naturally, compulsively, irrationally drawn to it.

to be loved and found magical, like a secret…

And there you are. And I liked you a lot today. A lot. And I want to talk to you. Selfishly.

I want to sleep all day and night (i.e., not live but not quite die) …

Now listen, life is lovely, but I CAN'T LIVE IT. I can't even explain. I know how silly it sounds … but if you knew how it FELT.

I feel myself beginning to love you instead of just need you. I don't think I have ever loved anyone in my life, not really – just needed them, wanted them to love me to possess me – to become such a part of someone I could lose my frightened self…

I wear silk -- the cover to uncover -- because silk is what I want you to think of. But I dislike the cloth. It is too stern. So tell me anything but track me like a climber for here is the eye, here is the jewel, here is the excitement the nipple learns. I am unbalanced -- but I am not mad with snow. I am mad the way young girls are mad, with an offering, an offering... I burn the way money burns.

Personally I'd give ten thousand bucks to be a psychiatrist and not a writer.

To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.

She owns her own hunger.

I love you. I wish we were real. — Anne Sexton, from a letter to Brother Dennis Farrell, 28 March 1963, A Self-Portrait in Letters, eds. Linda Gray Sexton and Lois Ames (Houghton Mifflin, 1991)

You must be a poet, a lady of evil luck desiring to be what you are not, longing to be what you can only visit.