Quotes About Desire

This is not to worry you, Henry, it is just that I can't keep from saying it, that I am overflowing, desperately in love with you as I never was with anyone.

I watched life and wanted to be a part of it but found it painfully difficult.

He had never seen her body so abandoned, so unconscious of all but the desire to be taken and satisfied. She bloomed under his caresses, no longer the girl but the woman already being born.

Her elongated eyes did not close as other women's eyes did, but like the eyes of tigers, pumas and leopards, the two lids meeting lazily and slowly; and they seemed slightly sewn together towards the nose, making them narrow, with a lascivious, oblique glance falling from them like the glance of a woman who does not want to see what is being done to her body. All this gave her an air of being made love to, which aroused the Baron as soon as he met her.

Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.

When you're in my arms, I know you're mine. But your feet are so swift, so swift, they carry you as lightly as wings, I never know where, too fast, too fast away from me.

I am like a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.

We must avoid possession, he said. But, oh, let me kiss you.

Does she know I feel immobile and fixed, lost in her?

You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god.

When we walked together through the streets, bodies close together, arm in arm, hands locked, I could not talk. We were walking over the world, over reality, into ecstasy. When she smelled my handkerchief, she inhaled me. When I clothed her beauty, I possessed her.

Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit, mechanical, overdone, when it becomes a mechanistic obsession. It becomes a bore. You have taught us more than anyone I know how wrong it is not to mix it with emotion, hunger, desire, lust, whims, caprices, personal ties, deeper relationships that change its color, flavor, rhythms, intensities.

At five o'clock Paris always has a current of eroticism in the air.

By the end of the evening I was like a man, terribly in love with her face and body, which promised so much, and I hated the self created in her by others. Others feel because of her; and because of her, others write poetry; because of her, others hate; others, like Henry, love her in spite of themselves.

It was this that frightened me--the sense that behind the grande amoureuse lay concealed a little bourgeoise who wanted security in love.

Djuna had wanted a life of desire and freedom, not luxury but beauty, not security but fulfillment, not perfection but a perfect moment like this one...

But love, the great narcotic, was the hothouse in which all the selves burst into their fullest bloom...

I want eroticism mixed with love, and deep love one does not experience often.

Abnormal pleasures kill the taste for normal ones.

She abandoned herself to his whim, thinking it was to be an orgy of eyes and hands only.

I was growing sad, sad with restlessness and hunger. I felt that nothing would happen to me. I felt desperate with desire to be a woman, to plunge into living. Why was I enslaved by this need of being in love first? Where would my life begin? It seemed to me that a great current was passing all around me and that I was left out. I would have to find someone who felt as I did. But where? Where?

I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one. I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe.

A long time ago, said Michael, I decided never to fall in love again. I have made of desire an anonymous activity. But not to feel...not to love...is like dying within life, Michael.

As soon as I kiss him I know that I love him with a blind instinct beyond all reason, with all his defects.