Quotes About Desire

I don't want you to give me anything, said Sara. I want your books- I want them! And her eyes grew big and her chest heaved.

dream—the real—real dream.

Might I," quavered Mary, "might I have a bit of earth?

You have yourself under magnificent control, but a woman passionately in love cannot keep a certain look out of her eyes. If it is there — let it stay, she said. I would not keep it out of my eyes if I could, and, you are right, I could not if I would — if it is there. If it is — let it stay.

I had a concise list of what I wanted out of life, three things (my merry mantra): to be thin, to publish a book with my name on it, and to fall in love with a man who loved me back. (In the wisdom of my thirties I revised this to be a sane man.) The last two items were predicated on being thin.

Oh, come on, he was twenty-six. And he had poetry on his lips.

He's already tan, and leaning on the rail in his yellow linen shirt, with the pure glory of Venice racing behind him, I think he looks like someone I'd like to run off with, if I already hadn't.

After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.

I wanted him to hold me, to take care of me. To make the pain dissolve away. I know that this was part of what had ruined everything but I wanted it once more anyway.

I want to be untouchable and beautiful and completely dead inside.

He kissed her. A kiss about apple pie a la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. A kiss about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. A kiss about palm trees speeding by, trailing pink clouds when you drive down the Strip sizzling with champagne. A kiss about spotlights fanning the sky and the swollen sea spilling like tears all over your legs.

What shall we do, all of us? All of us oassionate girls who fear crushing the boys we love with our mouths like caverns of teeth, our mushrooming brains, our watermelon hearts?

I wish I wasn't a girl who needed so much but a little free creature that slept in deserts and ran on clouds and lived on lilies.

Sometimes I wanted to peel away all of my skin and find a different me underneath.

You are my Marilyn. You are my lake full of fishes. You are my sky set, my 'Hollywood in Miniature,' my pink Cadillac, my highway, my martini, the stage for my heart to rock and roll on, the screen where my movies light up.

What shall we do? All of us passionate girls who fear crushing the boys we love with our mouths like caverns of teeth, our mushrooming brains, and watermelon hearts?

Besides, secretly, without knowing it herself, she had been waiting for a Beast to go to.

I'd sit around dreaming that the boys I saw at shows or at work - the boys with silver earrings and big boots - would tell me I was beautiful, take me home and feed me Thai food or omelets and undress me and make love to me all night with the palm trees whispering windsongs about a tortured gleaming city and the moonlight like flame melting our candle bodies.

Sometimes she has imagined what it would be like to fly, to live in the river, to run like a horse. She has dreamed of that freedom, that power, and fears the wildness in herself that wants to live as beasts live, moved purely by need and desire. She has felt torn between the heat of her limbs and the thoughts in her mind telling her to be careful and good and always calm

He smells like night-blooming flowers Crushed, juicy petals on the pillows His voice is full of ocean Humming like the surf He kneels before me like I am his goddess He is a god

Beauty loved him more than anything, her Beast boy, but, secretly, sometimes, she wished he would have remained a Beast.

He said, You're so tiny, like a doll, you look like you might break. I wanted him to break me. Part of me did.

Love is the worst earthquake there is. Can crush you to the thickness of your bones. Love can be like cancer sometimes. Terminal. It can make you vomit. It can make you want to cut it out. It can take you over against your will.

Everything was fine, but Weetzie wanted a baby. "How could you want one?" My Secret Agent Lover Man said. "There are way too many babies. And diseases. And nuclear accidents. And crazy psychos. We cant have a baby," he said.