Best 865 quotes in «lust quotes» category

A lot of who you were in middle age was determined before you had a chance to manipulate, control, or eve understand the things around you. It was no mystery, he thought, why some old people's minds returned to their youth; the wonder of those years, the discoveries, the first experience with the dirty secret of death, and the first stirrings of lust and love were indelible, drawn in luminous colors on clean canvas. Indeed, the first sex act was so mind-boggling that most people could still remember it clearly twenty, thirty, sixty years later.

Always lust for the best, because life is too short to be an ordinary.

A man and a woman wanting each other is by far one of the least sinful things I've seen

A month ago it would have been my dream just to be in his bedroom watching a movie, but now it’s torture because I want so much more. It’s like my entire conscious state has been reduced to this toxic blend of hope and uncertainty. I hate that I have to act cool and almost pretend I don’t like him when in fact I do, because, God forbid, I come across as desperate for attention or a little clingy, which everyone should know are perfectly natural human behaviors, after all. Ugh!

...and I thought, there was no God, there was only what you wanted.

And I will remember how we made the sun blush every morning.

And somewhere amidst the storm raging inside, between the twilight of lust and desire, entwined within the whirlwind of swirling emotions, it happened. In one lightning strike, the illusion crumbled. For I realised the naked truth...

And then it changed. I wasn't letting him anymore. He was taking, pawing, grabbing. I pushed, I cried out, I squirmed, but like I said it's a shitty game and he didn't feel like playing by the rules anymore.

And then there was Lydia. Lydia who had hurtled into his life – into their lives – with hair like fire, eyes like amethysts and a fuck-me scent so palpable that he’d betrayed the only woman he’d ever loved.

And though her husband will appear to come alive, she knows that it is lust - too quickly ignited and too quickly extinguished - that animates him.

And wasn't this what she'd been after--this lightness that came galloping through, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you along with it? How could you not surrender yourself to it, even if you knew you'd end up sitting bruised in the dirt? She supposed there must be another way to experience that breathless rush of being alive--something inward, perhaps?--but she didn't know what it was or how to get there on her own.

And where are you going?" His voice was playfully challenging. "To get some breakfast," she said without stopping. He leered. "I've got something for you to eat," he called after her. "I might bite it off, though," she said over her shoulder.

An unbelieving world may say otherwise, but so-called “sexual liberation” is actually sexual slavery—slavery to our own lusts.

Another indicator a male is ready to truly work in union on the higher levels is when he is able to see, feel and love beyond the body. Conquering the demon of lust, so to say, is a task that when accomplished the male is able to live and do life and relationship from the heart space.

Armel stepped towards her, ready to claim her in the way every other Ren claimed their mate. It might not be as magical as having a silver fox say a few words about destiny and choice but it was love and lust combined in the perfect dance of two souls.

A person who is another man's slave is better than one who is a slave to lust.

Any halfway clever devil would decorate the highway to Hell as beautiful as possible.

A relationship will devalue when one puts a price on it..

Art is a positive "FORCE" that bring beings together for the common good. Only the people who had lost a piece of themselves can create the unimaginary.

As a culture, we place great stock in external appearance. Our attachment to physical beauty is something that we need to let go of, yet it seems that the majority of people are racing toward it.

As a child I first became aware that my existence had a purpose when I realized men lusted after me. And that's why I will lust forever after men. Before I even began to worry about homework or any of those school things, I began having secret liaisons with men. And it is men who give me the proof I need now to feel I'm alive.

As I looked into his eyes, trying to see into the depths of that darkness, it hit me. It was subtle, but it hit me. The rush of attraction.

As for the vice of lust - aside from what it means for spiritual persons to fall into this vice, since my intent is to treat of the imperfections that have to be purged by means of the dark night - spiritual persons have numerous imperfections, many of which can be called spiritual lust, not because the lust is spiritual but because it proceeds from spiritual things. It happens frequently that in a person's spiritual exercises themselves, without the person being able to avoid it, impure movements will be experienced in the sensory part of the soul, and even sometimes when the spirit is deep in prayer or when receiving the sacraments of Penance or the Eucharist. These impure feelings arise from any of three causes outside one's control. First, they often proceed from the pleasure human nature finds in spiritual exercises. Since both the spiritual and the sensory part of the soul receive gratification from that refreshment, each part experiences delight according to its own nature and properties. The spirit, the superior part of the soul, experiences renewal and satisfaction in God; and the sense, the lower part, feels sensory gratification and delight because it is ignorant of how to get anything else, and hence takes whatever is nearest, which is the impure sensory satisfaction. It may happen that while a soul is with God in deep spiritual prayer, it will conversely passively experience sensual rebellions, movements, and acts in the senses, not without its own great displeasure. This frequently happens at the time of Communion. Since the soul receives joy and gladness in this act of love - for the Lord grants the grace and gives himself for this reason - the sensory part also takes its share, as we said, according to its mode. Since, after all, these two parts form one individual, each one usually shares according to its mode in what the other receives. As the Philosopher says: Whatever is received, is received according to the mode of the receiver. Because in the initial stages of the spiritual life, and even more advanced ones, the sensory part of the soul is imperfect, God's spirit is frequently received in this sensory part with this same imperfection. Once the sensory part is reformed through the purgation of the dark night, it no longer has these infirmities. Then the spiritual part of the soul, rather than the sensory part, receives God's Spirit, and the soul thus receives everything according to the mode of the Spirit.

As I recall,” he said as his fingertip skimmed the tops of her breasts, “I enjoy the sounds a woman makes when I pleasure her.” “Ye’d not enjoy these sounds.” She slapped his hand away. “And if ye take me, there’d be no pleasure.” “As a maid, ye canna know that,” he said, lifting one of the long locks of her chestnut hair to his lips and inhaling her scent. “And I dinna think ye’ll scream, not in the way ye mean, in any case.” “Ye’d have to tie me up and force yourself on me, because I’d fight ye, tooth and claw,” she said with assurance. “Now there’s a thought,” he said. “I’ve heard some lassies enjoy being tied up.” He could picture her in his mind, bound tight, her breasts bared, her legs splayed with her soft core wet and ready. She’d be helpless before him. He’d make her beg for release. He stood and walked to his horse to retrieve a length of rope. “Shall we give it a try?” “No!” she said, scrabbling away. “Please, no.” “Dinna fret, Elspeth. I’ll no’ force ye,” he crooned softly, as if she were a frightened mare.

As I stood there, with the two of them staring at me, I suddenly realised that this was more than just a one-night tryst in a hot tub or a drunken fumble with a horny couple, this was the start of something, an adventure. Not just for me, but for the three of us. We had finally made the jump across a gap that had been holding us back ever since we had met and what boundaries and reservations there had been were now destroyed.

As long as they have the wish to kill, they will not lose the lust to procreate.

As my muscles marginally relax, the tension flicks from anger to fevered desire. I want to tear each wisp of clothing off her and tie her to this f**king desk. I’ll know next time, to bring my satin ribbon.

As she uttered the words of the prayer, she glanced up at him as if he were God Himself. He watched her with growing pleasure. In front of him was kneeling the directress, being humiliated by a subordinate; in front of him a naked revolutionary was being humiliated by prayer; in front of him a praying lady was being humiliated by her nakedness. This threefold image of degradation intoxicated him and something unexpected suddenly happened: his body revoked its passive resistance. Edward was excited! As the directress said, 'And lead us not into temptation,' he quickly threw off all his clothes. When she said, 'Amen,' he violently lifted her off the floor and dragged her onto the couch.

As the arrangements of life no longer allow time for pleasure conscious of itself, replacing it by the performance of physiological functions, de-inhibited sex is itself de-sexualized. Really, they no longer want ecstasy at all, but merely compensation for an outlay that, best of all, they would like to save as superfluous.

Auf den Stachel des Begehrens haben wir nur eine Antwort: fangen, einschließen, festhalten.

Attraction is easily manufactured.

...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny. ...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines. ...and of lust. ...to what seems like male. ...to what seems like female. ...in those days. ...I mean nothing. ...but in high school. ....even me. ...I can't deny.

A voice that had traversed the centuries, so heavy it broke what it touched, so heavy I feared it would ring in me with eternal resonance, a voice rusty with the sound of curses and the hoarse cries that issue from the delta in the last paroxysm of orgasm.

Be careful who you allow into your bed, and more importantly your heart.

Beauty that steals the heart is often imperfect, suggests grace and kindness, and inspires tenderness more than it incites lust.

A woman is at heart – a wild creature. But the creature itself … that depends on you. (His wild rabbit – your wild horse)

A woman's lust is for a short time; a man's lust is forever.

Beauty makes fools of the wise.

Because of their lust for authority men are in constant turmoil. Those in authority are ever fighting to maintain it. Those out of authority are ever struggling to snatch it from the hands of those who hold it. While Man, the God in swaddling-bands, is trampled under foot and hoof and left on the field of battle unnoticed, unattended and unsolved. So furious is the fight, and so blood crazed the fighters that none, alas, would stop to lift the painted mask off the face of the spurious bride and expose her monstrous ugliness to all. Believe, O monks, that no authority is worth the flutter of an eyelash, except the authority of Holy Understanding which is priceless. For that no sacrifice is great. Attain it once, and you shall hold it to the end of Time. And it shall charge your words with more power than all the armies of the world can ever command; and it shall bless your deeds with more beneficence than all the world authorities combined can ever dream of bringing to the world.

Besides, I did love Luke—I did. But he wasn't the only one I wanted, and wanting isn't the same as loving. Just as I knew I loved Luke, I wasn't sure whether I loved Adair. I couldn't rule out that my attraction to him wasn't an advanced case of lust, though that's not to say it was inconsequential. Only a fool would underestimate the power of lust. Kingdoms have been won and lost, men and beasts have battled to the death over it.

(...) before they actually admit to the big 'L' word. Love or lust - what's the big, damn deal? You're going to  fuck either way, right?

Books are better than men, They give you multiple orgasms, even before the climax.

Blake inspires instant, tender Blakelust in everyone he meets. All of his beauties are meant to be touched, and he likes to be touched.

Bones was lost in the sweat on her exquisitely sweating body. He was jealous of her sweat. He wanted to be her sweat. Even through the viewfinder he could see her ribcage pressing against her leotard like a musical instrument. He wanted to play her long into the night.

Books might be your passion but you can’t fuck a paperback.

Book lust forever!

Break free from the binding robes of passion that feels like a lump in your heart, perform that surgery today, and you'll be set free forever.

Brian knows the affair is wrong. He's known from the moment Wendy first undressed in his office. But with her hot, wet tongue in his ear, and her taut, pink nipples straining against his starched white shirt, and with Mick Jagger's strident voice squawking about satisfaction on the tiny transistor radio, Brian's body refuses to obey. Instead of shoving Wendy out the door, he shoves her onto the unmade bed.

But I was immobilized—less by another’s static imposition than by my own static will. For the enemy had in thrall my power to choose, which he had used to make a chain for binding me. From bad choices an urge arises; and the urge, yielded to, becomes a compulsion; and the compulsion, unresisted, becomes a slavery—each link in this process connected with the others, which is why I call it a chain—and that chain had a tyrannical grip around me. The new will I felt stirring in me, a will to 'give you free worship' and enjoy what I yearned for, my God, my only reliable happiness, could not break away from the will made strong by long dominance. Two wills were mine, old and new, of the flesh, of the spirit, each warring on the other, and between their dissonances was my soul disintegrating.

Build my night with your cheeks.