Best 865 quotes in «lust quotes» category

I feel alive when you kiss me.

I feel like I look at her and get lost in her eyes.

I felt that thread that had come between us, tugging, tugging at my heart—so hard, it hurt me.

if god is real, she put all of herself into this girl. she vowed to unleash a woman so violently herself, the sky would collapse every time she came to orgasm.

If he knows where to put it and how to use it, who am I to argue?

If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.

If it’s not one god it’s another. Allah or oil. Jesus or Jewels. Lenin or lust.

If love is a form of substance abuse, I hope to die high.

{From Lindsey's address at the funeral of renowned scientist Luther Burbank. Burbank was one of the most beloved people in the early 20th century due to his countless contributions to humanity, but when, in an interview, he revealed that he was an atheist, the public quickly turned on him, sending him hundreds of death threats. Upset and grief stricken, the kind-hearted Burbank tried to respond to every letter amiably, a task that ultimately led to his death} . . . Luther Burbank had a philosophy that actually works for human betterment, that dares to challenge the superstition, hypocrisy, and sham, which so often have worked for cruelties, inquisitions, wars and massacres. Superstition that stood across the road of Progress, commanded, not by a god or gods, but the meanest devils that we know--Ignorance, Intolerance, Bigotry, Fanaticism, and Hate. The prejudiced beneficiaries of organized theology refused to see what Burbank, the gifted child of Nature, saw with a vision as crystal as theirs is dense and dark. And so they assailed him. One of the saddest spectacles of our times is the effort of hidebound theologians, still desperately trying to chain us to the past--in other forms that would still invoke the inquisitions, the fears, and the bigotries of the dark ages, and keep the world in chains. The chains of lies, hypocrisies, taboos, and the superstitions, fostered by the dying, but still the organized, relentless outworn theology of another age. They refuse to see that in their stupid lust for power they are endangering all that is good.

If someone calls you disgusting, they are lusting. It creates an energetic cord of control, which steals power, gifts, money, reputation, and free will choice from you. Drop the parasites.

If there is passion, let me feel its heat. I want my heart to beat fast, my breath raspy, my skin to burn.

If you are where I was before my process began, you can't imagine the place of victory, the place you can be free from the dominating desire for sexual stimuli. I am here to tell you that there is a place of freedom that you can know--a place where your desire for purity will subdue the lust of the flesh.

If you are not his first thought in the morning, he does not deserve a place in your dreams...

If we don’t practice mindfulness, our cravings and sensual desires will overwhelm us.

If you are aware of the kind of hunger, regrets and frustrations that follows rumpy pumpy, you would stir clear from hanky panky.

If you can only desire her by repeatedly risking all, then you neither love, desire nor value your woman, you merely desire control...

If you must lose, then lose with style...

If your heart’s no’ engaged in your marriage, then ye shouldna be averse to a wee bit of lust outside of it,” he said, advancing around to her. She made him feel pleasurably male again. He decided to listen to his groin and not stifle the urge. Lust wasn’t the same as love. Surely it wouldn’t be a betrayal of Fiona if he used his body to wreak vengeance on his enemy. Especially not if he convinced Lachlan’s bride to succumb willingly. “Ye interrupted the ceremony before the vows were complete. I’m no’ even officially a wife, I dinna suppose,” she said, still circling the spring to keep her distance from him. Her nipples stood out beneath her bodice, whether from cold or the memory of his touch, he didn’t much care. They were a fine sight in any case. He ached to suckle them.

If you were to love, love not for the lust that you yearn but the rather the pain that you earn with it. Remember though that the ones who brave the pain are eternally bound in Cupid's chain. It is these chains that many of us fear. The fear of losing the freedom of choosing for self. The fear of placing the needs of our better halves before our own. The fear is understandable for history has taught us to despise and the society has given us the chance to entice. However, if you were to pause and think ever about - love - then do remember that the chain which upon acceptance binds you in amour is the same which upon rejection arrests us to an ague called lonesome depression. Few survive in love, but fewer without it.

If you were to love, love not for the lust that you yearn but the rather the pain that you earn with it.

I had a dream that I saw shooting stars with you. Two things that will come close to never happening: Seeing shooting stars, and being with you.

I guessed that he would have a passionate bedfellow that night, but would never know to what prickings of conscience he owed her ardor.

I had a dream I named my boat after you. I love to raise your mast.

I had seen the flowers on her dress beside the canals in the north, she was indigenous like a herb, and I never wanted to go home.

I got together with Sylvère because I saw how I could help him get his life together. I'm drawn to you cause I see how you can help me take my life apart...

I had a dream that Zac Effron showed up at my door shirtless with a bouquet of flowers..yep, I’m still waiting on that one to come true.

I had no technique for dealing with him: only an overpowering, unnerving, irrational, chemical desire to be with him.

I had possessed her - and she never knew it.

I have come to realize that my stupid gestures excites women alot, and if I'm really stupid, i will dare to take them to bed and excite them even more.

I heard him sweeping with the broom, and then he suddenly stopped. I had obviously got his attention, and he was looking. Take a good look, honey, I thought. Take a good look at what I’m offering. I liked the sound of that silence. Do you know what I mean? Have you heard that silence yourself? I love that silence you get, when a man who you fancy notices your body. In a weird way, it’s so loud, it’s deafening. It could be because of the way you sway your hips, your legs, or thrust your breasts. And you just know his erection is talking to him, about what he’d like to do to your body. How he’d like to have his delightfully wicked way with you, undress you, smother your naked skin with hungry urgent kisses, and thrust his hard and moist cock deep inside the pouting red lips of your mouth… I think you get my drift. There’s a lovely tension in that moment; I call it the lust moment. When a sexy man sees what you’ve deliberately put out on offer, and he stops in his steps as his lust lights up his mind, and puts him on a new track.

I just never had a friend who cared as you do. My best friend Destiny doesn't understand me, she has a husband and a child. A life I have always wanted, but unfortunately, tables have turned to where I can't find that one guy I could love." Angel felt bad for feeling lust for the straight woman. She should have known better. "Jana, men have no idea what they are missing. You are as beautiful as they come and I would appreciate you more than any man would.

I knew from the start we were nothing like "forever". Maybe because forever is such a scary place.

I know he wasn’t perfect… But he did the best impression of it I’ve ever seen.

I just made it official. I'm a twenty-eight year old married woman with a twenty-two year old boyfriend who lives twenty minutes from a husband he doesn't know exists. That God I started believing in a few minutes ago is sending me straight to Hell.

I love and I lust and it really doesn’t matter if they love me back because sometimes that’s what love is.

I love being aroused. I love how that feeling overcomes me, as I look at a man’s erect cock, as I feel his hands ripping my clothes from my body, as the air caresses my naked skin, and how I feel like I’m blossoming like a flower.

I love being aroused. I relish that delicious feeling of freedom, the delirium of being naked, and my flesh being born again. It’s like I’m being made new.

I liked him, there was no doubt about that. But I wasn't sure if he was good for me or not. I didn't always stick to things that were good for me - positively railed against it sometimes - but he was a different type of not good for me. He did things to my mind and body that I hadn't ever experienced before. But it wasn't as if I could get him out of my head either: every moment I had free would suddenly be crammed with thoughts of him. His soft lips, the gentle urgency with which they'd kissed me. The intoxicating smell of his skin. His moss-green eyes that would follow everything I said, then would meet my eyes so we could share a smile. It was driving me slowly and pleasurably insane.

I love men. Rather, I love little parts of their bodies, not the perfect parts, but rather their odd features and their unique traits that make of them stand out of this cookie cutter world we live in. Throw a name at me, and I can instantly tell you which feature makes my heart go thumpedy-thump. Cropper Rowe: lucious, mocha brown-colored mole on the back of his neck. Derek: long yet narrow sideburns. Thorsten: thick nose, which he broke skiing. Milo: jet black hair, slicked back to reveal forehead and a small dimple. Vincent: lower jawline as it curves up to his ears and the way his stubble grows on it. Thayer: his waist and how he wears his jeans low enough to expose his appendectomy scar. And I love Eugene's eyes. Not that they are clear blue, but that they have a kind shape. It sounds cliché, but they are soft, and when I look into them, I feel I've known him forever. The sadness still lingers deep inside them, but he smiles a lot. Maybe I'm mistaken and life has been kind to him. Maybe he's the positive kind of fellow for whom smiling comes easily, despite it all.

I love you deeply and in the future, I may love you more however, that does not occasionally preclude me from plotting your death by shooting you, chopping you up and feeding you to the wolves...

I love you madly, forever.

I may not be perfect but I am as close as you will get to heaven...

I'm crazy about him and I'm crazy without him!

I’m in love with my corporate girlfriend, with the Cyclops heart

I'm just not going to do it so that we can say that we've done it. And I'm not going to do it if the first thing you say afterwards is 'please don't tell anyone' or 'let's forget it ever happened'. If you have to keep something secret it's because you shouldn't be doing it in the first place!

I'm nineteen tree rings and mashed acorns stop up my veins when I can't clot. Oh god, you beautiful person, I'll let you lick the salt off of my tattoos as if they were wounds, wounds made of ink and stories.

I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to float or fall a thousand feet and create the crevice I called my life. But the thing with crevices, there’s always a top and always a bottom. And the feeling of appreciation when you look from the top and understand how fast it can all come crashing down — it’s more than beautiful and more than words could ever explain.

I’m pretty sure battle strategies and combat techniques don’t cover desire and lust.

I’m starving to learn more about her. A new hunger that I know only she could satisfy.

In the cities of the European Franks, women roam about exposing not only their faces, but also their brightly shining hair (after their necks, their most attractive feature), their arms, their beautiful throats, and even, if what Ive heard is true, a portion of their gorgeous legs; as a result, the men of those cities walk about with great difficulty, embarrassed and in extreme pain, because, you see, their front sides are always erect and this fact naturally leads to the paralysis of their society. Undoubtedly, this is why each day the Frank infidel surrenders another fortress to us Ottomans.