Best 865 quotes in «lust quotes» category

The very same woman to whom some men would kill to make love, some man is—or some men are—bored to death of fucking.

The way he looked me up and down made a part of me burn with desire. Fire and electricity. Flames and sparks. Needing and wanting. Tempting temptation.

The wet, fleshy lips of his slightly open mouth were the origins of another unexpected reaction of mine to which I also gave in. I suddenly felt the emotional desire of kissing that mouth.... [T]hat sense of disgust that was invariably joined to the mere idea of kissing another male was not present now in the thoughts I kept turning in my mind about kissing him, and tasting the flavor of his sensuous lips. I also felt like nibbling the curve of his bony jaw and going down over his thick, muscular neck, to leave a trace of me in every pore of his terse skin, in a trail of lust and pleasure.

The word of lust touches the body, the word of love touches the soul: feed the soul and starve the body.

The word lust [can] mean “selfish desire.” . . .It is wanting something so badly you will do anything to get it. That is one of the tricks of the devil. It is too high a price to pay.

The writer of this legend then records Its ghostly application in these words: The image is the Adversary old, Whose beckoning finger points to realms of gold; Our lusts and passions are the downward stair That leads the soul from a diviner air; The archer, Death; the flaming jewel, Life; Terrestrial goods, the goblet and the knife; The knights and ladies all whose flesh and bone By avarice have been hardened into stone; The clerk, the scholar whom the love of pelf Tempts from his books and from his nobler self. The scholar and the world! The endless strife, The discord in the harmonies of life! The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books; The market-place, the eager love of gain, Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!

They burn books now, mama.The monsters burn fucking books now, mama. They have eyes full of disappointing madness. Their tongues taste like fulvous indoctrination. They teach us. Teach us sadism, hatred, lust to kill, conformity. What do you see when you look at me? Daddy?

The yearn of the faithful The call of the wild Two conflicting worlds collide Steadfast in a world spiraling out of control. One foot to the earth One head in the clouds

They have never put it into words, they cannot; but each absence is a threat. They never felt this way in New York - they moved all over New York. Here each is afraid that one of the others will get into some terrible trouble before he is seen again, and before anyone can help him. It is the spirit of the people, the eyes which endlessly watch them, eyes which never meet their eyes. Something like lust, something like hatred, seems to hover in the air along the country roads, shifting like mist or steam, but always there, gripping the city streets like fog, making every corner a dangerous corner. They spend more of themselves, each day, than they can possibly afford, they are living beyond their means; they drop into bed each evening, exhausted, into an exhausting sleep. And no one can help them. The people who live here know how to do it - so it seems, anyway - but they cannot teach the secret. The secret can be learned only by watching, by emulating the models, by dangerous trial and possibly mortal error.

They intend to make people's very appetites the next weapon of uncountable destruction. They intend that your people will lust themselves into oblivion in front of little boxes of changing light. Addictive light. A light that makes you feel like you live a life, when all you really do is eat what the light tells you to eat and squirt pee and pump poo. And watch the changing light!

They say love is all about raging hormones. For me, it's mind's way of breaking through its self-imposed limitations in order to set the eternally ecstatic soul free.

They say I should stay away from you,” I said. “They said you’re not good for me.” “I’m not,” he said with a wicked smile, “But doesn’t that make it even more fun?

They still had sexual relations with another, slept in the same bed, shared kisses and intimacy and matrimonial fluid, however both were not married to each other in that sense, although there was a piece of paper that said otherwise.

Thinking about the bed leaves you horny, but thinking beyond the bed gives you honor, freedom and wisdom.

Thinking about it too hard makes her angry: ardent Taylor, who wants more passionately than anyone Kath has ever met, deserves more than these insulting parodies of lust. But what does Taylor want?

This is the gateway to Hell, baby… Welcome to The Underworld.

This, it would turn out, is the main thing we had in common: a susceptibility to the brassy escapism of myth.

This is not lust I feel, dear Sara. And I hope you are half as frightened of it as I am.

This was the time when the rush for the spoils filled a corner of the forest with the yelping of hounds, the cracking of whips, the flaring of torches. The appetites let loose were satisfied at last, shamelessly, amid the sound of crumbling neighbourhoods and fortunes made in six months. The city had become an orgy of gold and women.

This pursuit of unavailable distant people has oedipal roots. … fearing the consequences, they make certain that they fail at the attempt.” ―Distancing, Kantor (p.115)

Took long enough,” she called out, not wanting to admit how the sight of him made her throat hitch, how the man was so gorgeous she lost her mind. “I thought you drowned in the mirror from staring into your reflection too long.

Though it’s reasons to burn may vary... you are always the fuel of my fire.

To be the mistress of a married man is to have the better role. Do you realize? His dirty shirt, his disgusting underwear, his daily ironing, his bad breath, his hemorrhoid attacks, his fuss, not to mention his bad moods, and his tantrums. Well all that is for his wife. When a married man comes to his mistress... he's always bleached and ironed, his teeth sparkle, his breath is like perfume, he's in a good mood, he's full of conversation, he is there to have a good time with you.

To esteem what makes you holy over what makes you happy - that is the greatest dare.

To lovers there. Most ladies the reason they are dumped and their relationship doesn't last is they made themselves to become a want than a need in a relationship.

To see her is to be seduced by her.

To Conquer The Lust For Power Is To Establish A Society A Society That Reflects Heaven On Earth

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

To live for the hope of something isn’t really living at all, and so, like a child putting away its toys and picking up a tool, he marched to Lyca’s bathroom, to shower off the stench of failure, soap up the death of hope, then wash away the ashes of his love for Daphne.

Tomorrow's character is made out of today's thoughts. Temptation may come suddenly, but sin doesn't.

To save face, it's better not to ask sex from the ex, but to give everything the axe.

To see you is to forget my name. To forget this tight collar and that delayed train. To forget the conflict with the landlady and the worry that my students won’t like me. These trifles lose themselves in the valleys of your brows and the seas of your hair. To see you is to forget my name. To forget if it matters what I do and whether what I do matters. To forget who I think I am and who I think I ought to become. To forget every past moment and unremember every moment to come. To see you is to forget my name. To forget myself and forget the world. These trivialities drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at me. Because to see you is to see you. Only you.

To use good things to our own ends is always a false religion

Travelling to new worlds, experiencing strange sights, sounds and tasting the unknown becomes ever more delightful when shared...

True love is when you love someone with your eyes closed. Anything else is lust!!!

Trust Kills Lust

Ugh! I absolutely hate lust. Hate. It. Every fiber of my being knows he’s not a good person, yet my body doesn't seem to give a shit at all.

Unwrap me with all the verve of a new gift...After all, it is not every day I have enough clothes on to be present...able...

Wachawi wanamwabudu Shetani. Lakini Shetani wanayemwabudu si Shetani Ibilisi aliyeumbwa na Mwenyezi Mungu kuja kuudanganya ulimwengu wote. Ni Shetani roho ya mabadiliko, mabadiliko ya kweli, ya ufahamu kamilia ulimwengu huu ambamo sisi sote tunaishi. Wachawi, kwa maneno mengine, wanaabudu miungu – kama vile Inanna wa Mesopotamia, Isis wa Misri, Asherah wa Kaanani au Belus wa Assyria ambaye ndiye mungu wa kwanza kuabuadiwa kama sanamu duniani – iliyotwaliwa na Shetani tangu misingi ya ulimwengu huu kusimikwa. Dhambi aliyotenda Shetani mbinguni ni ndogo kuliko dhambi wanazotenda wachawi duniani, ijapokuwa dhambi aliyotenda Shetani haitaweza kusamehewa na ndiyo maana Shetani hataweza kuwasamehe wanadamu. Ni jukumu letu kuwaita wachawi wote kutoka Babeli na kuwaleta katika ukweli kama kweli wanayemwabudu ni Shetani Ibilisi, Shetani Beelzebub, Shetani Asmodeus, Shetani Leviathan, Shetani Mammon, Shetani Amon au Shetani Belphegor ambao ni mabingwa wa kiburi, uroho, zinaa, wivu, fedha, hasira na uvivu duniani. Wachawi hawajui, na usipojua waweza kufa bila kujua.

verligen-Szene Êrec was biderbe unde guot, ritterlîche stuont sîn muot ê er wîp genaeme und hin heim kaeme: nû sô er heim komen ist, dô kêrte er allen sînen list an vrouwen Ênîten minne. sich vlizzen sîne sinne wie er alle sîne sache wante zuo gemache. sîn site er wandeln began. als er nie würde der man, alsô vertreip er den tac. des morgens er nider lac, daz er sîn wîp trûte unz daz man messe lûte. sô stuonden si ûf gelîche vil unmüezeclîche. ze handen si sich viengen, zer kappeln si giengen: dâ was ir tweln alsô lanc unz daz man messe gesanc. diz was sîn meistiu arbeit: sô was der imbîz bereit. swie schiere man die tische ûf zôch, mit sînem wîbe er dô vlôch ze bette von den liuten. dâ huop sich aber triuten. von danne enkam er aber nie unz er ze naht ze tische gie. (Erec war rechtschaffen und gut, sein Geist war ritterlich gewesen, bevor er eine Frau genommen hatte und nach Hause zurückgekehrt war. Nachdem er jetzt zu Hause ist, wendete er alle seine Gedanken an die Liebe Enites. Sein Verstand richtete sich nur darauf, wie er alles zu seiner Bequemlichkeit einrichten könne. Er änderte seine Gewohnheiten. Als sei er nie ein Mann geworden, so vertrieb er den Tag. Morgens legte er sich nieder, um seine Frau zu lieben, bis man zur Messe läutete. Dann standen sie beide eilig auf. Sie nahmen sich bei der Hand und gingen zur Kapelle; dort blieben sie gerade so lange wie man die Messe sang. Das war seine größte Mühe; dann war schon das Essen fertig. Sobald man die Tische hochgezogen hatte, eilte er mit seiner Frau von den Leuten weg ins Bett. Da ging die Liebe von neuem an. Von dort kam er nicht mehr weg, bis er zum Abendessen ging.)

Vari består då detta under? Helt enkelt i den plötsliga upptäckten att ingen, varken makter eller människor, har rätt att ställa sådana krav på mig att min lust till liv förtvinar. Ty om lusten icke finns – vad kan då finnas? Eftersom jag står vid havet kan jag lära av havet. Ingen har rätt att begära av havet att det skall bära alla båtar eller av vinden att den ständigt skall fylla alla segel. Lika litet har någon rätt att begära av mig, att mitt liv skall bli en fångenskap under funktioner. Inte plikten framför allt utan livet! Jag, liksom varje människa, måste ha rätt till ögonblick då jag får ta ett steg åt sidan och känna, att jag inte bara är en del i den massa, som kallas jordens befolkning, utan en självständig verkande enhet.

Walking towards love is wiser than falling into it.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

We all have a sea inside us; can you hear it? Can you hear the ocean roaring?

We all have a choice as to how we value someone. Either they become nothing more than an object, or we cultivate the ability to push on through to find true beauty in the whole, not in an amalgam of parts.

We are [God's] by creation, and again by redemption. He has every right to tell me what to do with my mind and body. I have. I right to do whatever I want with my body.

We are going through a sexual tempest, a bombardment provided by unprecedented exploitation of cheap sex by moviemakers, theater owners, publishers, and producers of pornography. [There is more] openness of talk about sex, acceptance of public nudity . . . homosexuality. Sex revolution, no! But sex pollution? Yes!!

we are born into this world on the tailcoats of a scream. born into gritted teeth and a shock of red across the pristine. born into a solemn hush. are you evil? you, who tore into this world on a steed of crimson… are you a monster? we are born as angels, toothless, a mouth a gurgling brook. and as we grow, so do our wings, until we are high enough to see that our church is no more than a small forest and the altar a tree. are you a monster, angel with fangs? all teeth, thick with teeth, you can’t even close your mouth anymore. it rains and it’s like drowning. corn husk skin and we’re born again. into a time of being tied down, to a person, to a bed. a time of clipped wings. of holy cries out to a void. your wildness a convenience store in the desert, pale pink, dusty, arid. your wildness staring longingly at the screaming horizon and flicking another cigarette butt into the dirt, a lone oscillating fan its only company. we’re born into this concrete world, where sanctuary is to be alone or to pretend to like it. this world of broken bottles instead of leaf crunch. roadside motels proclaiming vacancies. inside and out. that pluck your heartstrings. a new church, a fresh sin. the altar now a white railing against a muted matte pink wall. you lean against it, hips jutted to the side. some of the eighties still lingers. you see a man in a leather jacket kissing a girl’s neck purple. he looks up. teeth are everywhere. hundreds of glistening teeth. you turn away. your wings shush against an old telephone booth, door forced closed. you’re calling your mother to say you’re sorry for hurting her, but when she answers you hang up.

Well enough,” I reply. “Remember, you’re drunk. And happy. You’re supposed to be lusting over your escort. Try smiling a little more.” Day plasters a giant artificial smile on his face. As charming as ever. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I got my arm around the prettiest escort on this block—how could I not be lusting over you? Don’t I look like I’m lusting? This is me, lusting.” His lashes flutter at me. He looks so ridiculous that I can’t help laughing. Another passerby glances at me. “Much better.

We are taught to be free from all vices of life. No greed, anger, lust, and attachment with any mundane things.