Best 865 quotes in «lust quotes» category

Fall in love with me and I will immortalise you in my poetry. Fall in love with me and I will worship each of your lashes like Divinity. Fall in love with me and I will take you to the peak of explosive rapture daily. If you haven’t already, I dare you to fall in love with me.

Fall in love with the heart before the face.

Falling in love with a woman’s body is lust, with a woman’s mind is sense, with a woman’s heart is virtue, and with a woman’s soul is wisdom.

Faster's always better, but you have to mind those curves. They're wicked. They can kill a man in a heartbeat.

February 2009 January 4. January 4. January 4. I rubbed the paper on my red calendar. I cried into the little box, into the last day we had sex. I was a tornado. I puked hurricanes. I was Jodi Arias. There were no more tears for him. Swirling eddies of vodka, pills, fattening food, and tears. Vortexes corralled other vortexes. They joined forces with the eyes of other storms far out into the Gulf, and Atlantic, and castrated my heart first, then everything below the neck. Fuck the heart; my brain was mauled into mush. He didn’t have a heart—and possibly, neither did I. The heart had nothing to do with a whirlpool of circles and left and rights I navigated.

Feel my passion, Taste my desire, Unite and intertwine our emotions, Dare to be one with me, I in return will allow you to touch my soul.

First time I got the full sight of Shug Avery long black body with it black plum nipples, look like her mouth, I thought I had turned into a man

For a reason, unbeknownst to me, I cannot help coveting those strange hooded eyes of hers - the black of her pupil enveloped by a whirlpool of forget me not blue. If I could catch her gaze once more, even if it is only to discern if she has been as unnerved by me as I have been by her...

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

For I chase but one hind, he says, one strange deer timid and wild, and she leads me off the paths that other men have trod, and by myself into the depths of the wood.

For if this God exists, I thought, and if even you – with your lusts and your adulteries and the timid lies you used to tell – can change like this, we could all be saints by leaping as you leapt, by shutting the eyes and leaping once and for all: if you are a saint, it’s not so difficult to be a saint. It’s something He can demand of any of us, leap.

For out of the perverse will came lust, and the service of lust ended in habit, and habit, not resisted, became necessity.

For there are more duals to fight behind the closed doors of the bedroom...

Galileo, yet men turn around women!

Fuck! The things she does to me with a simple kiss.

Give me your secrets. I'll give you my soul.

Gods, I wish the world was full of passive women.He thought for a moment longer, then scowled. On second thoughts, what a nightmare that'd be. It's the job of a man to fan the spark into flames, not quench it...

God damn it, don’t you do this. You have no idea how badly I want you right now. I’d love nothing more than to bury myself inside you, and feel you lose yourself around me as you scream my name; the very idea of fucking the woman I love, finally, after ten thousand years – of having you feel just what it is you mean to me – is so hard to bear I’m all but fallen at your feet. But I’ll be damned if it happens here of all places. I’m not going to screw you in Hell, Mary. I gave in and took your blood, and God knows you have the power to bring me to my knees, but when I love-fuck you, I want to do it in my home. So do you think you could humour me just a little longer?” She gaped at him. “Did you just say, ‘love-fuck’?

God gives urge, urge gives pleasure, pleasure gives pains, pains gives fruits, fruits gives trees, trees die and go to hell!

Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.

Greed and Lust never say, "Enough!

Habit energy is there in all of us in the form of seeds transmitted from our ancestors, our grandparents, and our parents, as well as seeds created by the difficulties we ourselves have experienced. Often we’re unaware of these energies operating in us. We may want to be in a committed relationship but our habit energies can color our perceptions, direct our behaviors, and make our lives difficult. With mindfulness, we can become aware of the habit energy that has been passed down to us.

Having someone this male next to her made her soul feel exhilarated and convey brazenly suggestive, female, liberal ideas to her inner id.

Hatred is unattractive, but it's also irresistible. If men were honest with themselves, they'd admit it's a stronger passion than lust.

He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated a surrender with equanimity. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him - like an actor kissed in a picture.

He closed the door behind us, and led me through to the back of the shop. ‘If you don’t mind, you can get changed in the stock cupboard,’ he said. ‘We’re not posh enough here to have staff changing rooms, but you’ll soon get used to it.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry, Chris,’ I said warmly. ‘I’m used to getting my clothes off in unusual places.

He could have watched her all night. He could watch her for an eternity and still never be able to capture the essence of what it is that makes ‘love’.

He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow-Chinese paper, the brushes, and slab of India ink. In cleanest, severest outline he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes, whose centre is the conjoined Hog, Snake, and Dove (Ignorance, Anger, and Lust), and whose compartments are all the heavens and hells, and all the chances of human life.

He’d never forgotten the sweep of her soft mouth against his, the taste of her sweetness, like strawberries, and the way she fired his insides to life.

He drunkenly recognized that the lust was part of something bigger, of a craving to pursue pleasure unreasonably, beyond the right and wrong, to go as far as his body took him. In the body there is no absolute, or free, will, but the body is determined to desire this or that by a cause that is also determined by another, and this again by another, and so on to infinity.

He gave Dancer one last pat. 'You're luckier than you know, pal. Living without a set of balls makes life a lot less complicated.

He is a unicorn. I want to gently capture him and bring him back to my lab for research.

He is incredibly handsome. You never realized before how beautiful evil could be.

He is insatiable in love. His wife is a great cook.

He kissed her lustfully. Mindlessly. Senselessly.

He had been violently confused by her real presence in the opposite inaccessible corner. For months he had been possessed by the imagination of her. She had been distant and closed away, a princess in a tower, and his imagination’s work had been all to make her present, all of her, to his mind and senses, the quickness of her and the mystery, the whiteness of her, which was part of her extreme magnetism, and the green look of those piercing or occluded eyes. Her presence had been unimaginable, or more strictly, only to be imagined. Yet here she was, and he was engaged in observing the ways in which she resembled, or differed from, the woman he dreamed, or reached for in sleep, or would fight for.

He hadn't been this nervous since the last disastrous night at the improv, and he firmly told himself to calm down as he blotted at the tablecloth, glancing upwards to see Emma wriggling out of her summer jacket, pushing her shoulders back and her chest forward in that way that women do without realising the ache they cause.

He handed the dust pan and brush over. I knew they wouldn’t be much use in cleaning the floor. I also knew the real reason he had given them to me: so he could look furtively at me, as I bent over. That idea turned me on. I welcomed it, and decided to give him a good look at what he wanted.

He lashed the belt against my ass again, and I was starting to feel like I was some supernatural being that was more than he was. He was just human, but I felt like something from heaven, an angel from the stars, that had come down to grace him with my presence. How beautiful lust is, when it makes you feel this way. Have you felt this yourself, do you know what I mean?

He loved her. He loved her because nature willed it. Because they were already united and of one body. The bare flesh on every part of her belonged to him. The scent emitting from her skin was his.

He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

He may be a nobody to you, but he is a somebody to me..

He pulled my head back further, and I could hear his ragged breathing as his mouth came close to my ear, sounding so desperate for me. God, I was turned on so much…

He placed the tip of his fingers on her chin and tilted her head up to his. Rylan slowly closed her eyes as she felt his breathing quicken. The chill of his lips as they pressed against hers made her buckle at the knees, falling even further into him.

Here all great emotions decay: here only little, dry emotions may rattle! Do you not smell already the slaughter-houses and cook-shops of the spirit? Does this city not reek of the fumes of slaughtered spirit? Do you not see the souls hanging like dirty, limp rags? – And they also make newspapers from these rags! Have you not heard how the spirit has here become a play with words? It vomits our repulsive verbal swill! – And they also make newspapers from this verbal swill. They pursue one another and do not know where. They inflame one another, and do not know why. They rattle their tins, they jingle their gold. They are cold and seek warmth in distilled waters; they are inflamed and seek coolness in frozen spirits; they are all ill and diseased with public opinion. All lusts and vices are at home here; but there are virtuous people here, too, there are many adroit, useful virtues.

Her first instinct was to look away, to shield her wicked thoughts and feelings from his penetrating gaze. But if ever there was a time for truth between a man and a woman, this was that time. She met his eyes steadily and didn't care whether he saw the abandon and bliss she felt. His face held a cross between the wonder of a boy on Christmas morn and the knowing look of a man who was exquisitely aware of what wicked things he was doing to her. He enslaved her with pleasure, and she had no defense. Her cheeks heated, and her breath hitched, but she couldn't look away. He might stop, and she didn't think she could bear it if he did. Instead, she moved. Just a little, so his finger would brush her sensitive tip. A jolt of longing shot through her body from her breast to her womb. "Merciful God!" she breathed. "Aye, lass, and 'tis a good thing He is," Rob said with a wicked grin, "for I am no' merciful in the slightest.

Her steel blue eyes captivated him at first glance and along with the alluring scent of jasmine surrounding her presence, he lost all sense of time and rhythm, and barely remembered the ensuing conversation. Thinking he had died and gone to heaven, the only thing that stuck in his memory, as they found themselves pressed urgently against the wall of her hotel room, was her name; Ginny.

Her touch is like doing simple math When she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothes There is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colors Dividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying

Her room was warm and lightsome. A huge doll sat with her legs apart in the copious easy-chair beside the bed. He tried to bid his tongue speak that he might seem at ease, watching her as she undid her gown, noting the proud conscious movements of her perfumed head. As he stood silent in the middle of the room she came over to him and embraced him gaily and gravely. Her round arms held him firmly to her and he, seeing her face lifted to him in serious calm and feeling the warm calm rise and fall of her breast, all but burst into hysterical weeping. Tears of joy and relief shone in his delighted eyes and his lips parted though they would not speak. She passed her tinkling hand through his hair, calling him a little rascal. —Give me a kiss, she said. His lips would not bend to kiss her. He wanted to be held firmly in her arms, to be caressed slowly, slowly, slowly. In her arms he felt that he had suddenly become strong and fearless and sure of himself. But his lips would not bend to kiss her. With a sudden movement she bowed his head and joined her lips to his and he read the meaning of her movements in her frank uplifted eyes. It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour.

He slipped off her clothes and covered her eyes with one hand, a blindfold of naivete she wore willingly, relishing his embrace like an idiot inmate who mistakes a straitjacket for a snuggie.