Quotes About Desire

What we were after there, in the horn and vellum

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, for all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see

The miserable think that what they have is never enough. Like the Little Mermaid, who owned no more than twenty thingamabobs, they say, "But who cares, no big deal, I want MORE." (How could you be miserable with twenty thingamabobs?)

I answered, "Because you want them. In the eternal scheme of things that will be of inestimable and eternal value." The Lord has said that he "will judge all men according to their works; according to the desire of their hearts" (D&C 137:9).

Aside from the giddy high school feelings, real love makes you: Feel a desire to achieve Feel inspired to do your best Want to make the most of yourself Think your noblest thoughts Aspire to your finest deeds Wish you were better than you are

The cleverest writers give the someone we like not one but two things he wants VERY BADLY, and then puts them at odds with each other. I love Romeo but hate his Montague family. I love the Shire but want to travel like Uncle Bilbo and see elves and dragons. I love Lois Lane but I have to act like a mild mannered dweeb to hide my powerful secret lest my effectiveness as a crimefighter be compromised, so the girl I have a crush on has a crush on my alter ego and won't give me a date.

There is often less danger in the things we fear than in the things we desire.

My whole desire is to run up and down the sea coast looking for you.

Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any.

were a purely biological matter." He relates also how a nurse at the George Washington Hospital attempted to excite him by detailing the characteristics she desired her lovers to have. He draws a disapproving picture of the American woman's seductive appearance ("thirsty lips…bulging breasts…smooth legs…") and flirtatious demeanour ("the calling eye…the provocative laugh…").

For this we must believe: that the mind is never seriously aroused to desire and ponder the life to come unless it be previously imbued with contempt for the present life. Indeed, there is no middle ground between these two: either the world must become worthless to us or hold us bound by intemperate love of it.

desire is bridled when we acknowledge that all things given to us are given in order that we might know their author. This leads us to gratitude for His kindness toward us.

We are accordingly urged by our own evil things to consider the good things of God; and, indeed, we cannot aspire to Him in earnest until we have begun to be displeased with ourselves.

The Must be worthless by our estimation or keep us enslaved by an intemperate love of it.

Once we've concluded that this earthly life of ours is a gift of divine mercy—and grateful recollection of this is our obligation—then we rightly stoop to consider this life's miserable condition. And by such consideration we disentangle ourselves from excessive desire for this life, which— as has been said—is our natural inclination.

That the covetous wants that which he has, as   well as that which he has not; because he is master of nothing, and is   the slave of his own wealth.

Desire is bridled when we acknowledge that all thing given to us are given in order that we might know their author.

ordered more cakes than I have. He

I've been homesick for countries I've never been, and longed to be where I couldn't be.

For, as I always like to say: 'It is not possessing something that is harmful, but being attached to it.

If you have something to eat and notice your thought wanting to eat alone on account of desire and not of need, in this respect you do not regard him as yourself. Even if you only have enough for whatever you need, if you do not give him some of this, in this respect you do not regard him as yourself.

He had his choice, and he liked the worst.

I sleep with thee, and wake with thee, And yet thou are not there; I fill my arms with thoughts of thee, And press the common air.

My illness was love, though I knew not the smart, But the beauty of love was the blood of my heart.