Best 5910 quotes in «desire quotes» category

Once I had a wild fling on an otherwise boring weekend holiday in Edinburgh, with a guy I met who turned out to be a psychiatrist. He agreed with me, after hours and hours of our naked cavorting in a hotel, that I was a sex addict; although he did stress he wouldn’t change me for the world. It turned him on that I was so sexual, and we turned a dull weekend in a grey city into something wonderful for the two of us. So, what was the problem?

Once you are defiled, you can't get back your purity by any means, instead, you will only look for ways to be defiled over and over again.

Once they were both naked and pressed together again, with Christian’s mouth on one of Max’s nipples and Max’s hands on Christian’s inner thighs, Christian was struck by how intense it was, how urgent and powerful and deep this wanting went. All his life he was raised to believe—wanted to believe—that desire was a superficial thing, something you worked through and, if you were disciplined and moral, ultimately put aside in favour of deeper, more important pursuits.

Once you fully embrace your sensuality, life becomes an adventure.

Once you start learning how to choose the peaceful, a small room is enough; a small quantity of food is enough; a few clothes are enough; one lover, a very ordinary man, can be enough of a lover. But if you go on asking for more and more, then thousands of men are not enough. Even the most beautiful man is finished sooner or later. Your desire goes on and on. It knows no end... it stops nowhere.

Once you see that your skin and your gift are two sides of the same coin, you can never forget it. It preserves religion from any arrogance and denial.

One late winter afternoon in Oxford Street, amid the noise of vehicles and voices that filled that dusky thoroughfare, as I was borne onward with the crowd past the great electric-lighted shops, a holy Indifference filled my thoughts. Illusion had faded from me; I was not touched by any desire for the goods displayed in those golden windows, nor had I the smallest share in the appetites and fears of all those moving and anxious faces. And as I listened with Asiatic detachment to the London traffic, its sound changed into something ancient and dissonant and sad—into the turbid flow of that stream of Craving which sweeps men onward through the meaningless cycles of Existence, blind and enslaved forever. But I had reached the farther shore, the Harbour of Deliverance, the Holy City; the Great Peace beyond all this turmoil and fret compassed me around. Om Mani padme hum—I murmured the sacred syllables, smiling with the pitying smile of the Enlightened One on his heavenly lotus. Then, in a shop-window, I saw a neatly fitted suit-case. I liked that suit-case; I desired to possess it. Immediately I was enveloped by the mists of Illusion, chained once more to the Wheel of Existence, whirled onward along Oxford Street in that turbid stream of wrong-belief, and lust, and sorrow, and anger.

One excuse, could destroy a multitude of chances.

One could never know anything except through desire, real desire, which was not the same thing as greed or lust; a pure, painful and primitive desire, a longing for everything that was not in oneself, a torment of the flesh, that carried one beyond the limits of one's mind to other times and other places, and even, if one was lucky, to a place where there was no border between oneself and one's image in the mirror.

One might—if one were, say, a gay sex writer—make a case that there's still a vibrant role for queer dirty words. While highly commodified mass-market DVD porn and its kinkier "specialty" cousins shows how sex looks, erotic texts are still the best mode to convey how sex—and its pesky cousin, desire—feels, and what it all means.

One has to attain an ego-less state (nir-ahankari); attaining a nir-maani state (a desire-free state that wants importance from others) is not enough. The egoism one has of being nir-mani is very subtle. The external ‘horns’ are worn down but the internal ones still remain. The inner ‘horns’ will cause an internal biting.

One may even have ‘greed’ for self-respect. Greed gives rise to circumstances. When circumstance arises, worldly life arises.

One morning, about four o'clock, I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, 'Why am I out on the highway this time of night?' I was miserable, and it all came to me: 'I'm falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with. I can't fall in love with this man, but it's just like a ring of fire.

One of your curls could fall striking me with the genius of a million masterpieces without you even noticing the violent storms of my love.

One thing I've learned about myself is that I can accomplish anything I want to. The caveat is that I have to want to do it. I've never been able to forge desire.

One researcher, J.P. Gump found that the most profound shame results from the destruction of your subjectivity when "what you need, what you desire, and what you feel are of complete and utter insignificance.

One should not interpret 'vyavasthit' (result of scientific circumstantial evidences) as, ‘Nothing is going to happen outside of vyavasthit.’ If we want to say, "[It is] Vyavasthit," then our efforts should be there. It should be our desire to make some effort. Thereafter, whatever efforts vyavasthit makes us do, is correct! The effort [being made] should be sahaj (natural and spontaneous).

One would say; “He is the herdsman of all; there is no evil in his heart. His herds are few, but he spends the day herding them. There is fire in their hearts! If only he had perceived their nature in the first generation! Then he would have smitten the evil, stretched out his arm against it, would have destroyed their seed and their heirs! But since giving birth is desired, grief has come and misery is everywhere. So it is and will not pass, while these gods are in their midst. Seed comes forth from mortal women ; it is not found on the road. Fighting has come, and the punisher of crimes commits them! There is no pilot in their hour. Where is he today? Is he asleep ? Lo, his power is not seen!

(On the seeming futility of metaphysics) Why then has nature afflicted our reason with the restless striving for such a path, as if it were one of reason's most important occupations? Still more, how little cause have we to place trust in our reason if in one of the most important parts of our desire for knowledge it does not merely forsake us but even entices us with delusions and in the end betrays us! Or if the path has merely eluded us so far, what indications may we use that might lead us to hope that in renewed attempts we will be luckier than those who have gone before us?

Only when the seeker is lost, the truth is there. Seek, and you will miss. Seek not, and you will find. The very seeking becomes a barrier to truth, to the ultimate experience.

Open your mind to the infinite possibilities that exist for you; then create within your reality the things that you desire.

On the third day Vera said: 'I love your body because it is beautiful. But I do not know your soul. I do not know whether there is a soul. Nor is it necessary for me because your body is beautiful. But everything is mutable and you will grow old. At first your face will grow old. Your body will live longer. An old face will be a mockery before a youthful body. And then a wasted body will be a mockery to ravenous desires. This is like the dead light of the setting sun which from the clouds above was reflected in the water... feeble and full of disillusion. Should I not kill you so that I might always possess you for myself.' And Vera became terrifying. I found this unpleasant. But from these words I understood that she had decided upon the day. ("Thirty-Three Abominations")

Opportunity comes to everyone it depends on you whether you take it or leave it. Learn to take risks and play hard because at the end you'd be thankful for your struggle.

Only Boiled Seeds are afraid of failure.

Otherwise, the dark and our mouths, tearing at what bones we found, grinning and hungry for something—something we couldn't, with all our words, name.

Or maybe desire kicked in when it pleased without noticing the rules we lived and died by.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

Or she would look at him with a sullen expression, once again he would see before him a face worthy of figuring in Botticelli's Life of Moses, he would place her in it, he would give her neck the necessary inclination; and when he had well and truly painted her in distemper, in the fifteenth century, on the wall of the Sistine Chapel, the idea that she had nevertheless remained here, by the piano, in the present moment, ready to be kissed and possessed, the idea of her materiality and her life would intoxicate him with such force that, his eyes distracted, his jaw tensed as though to devour her, he would swoop down upon that Botticelli virgin and begin pinching her cheeks.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

Our culture teaches that sex is for the sexy, and the only way to be sexy is to be pretty. No wait--that's still too weak. Sex should properly arise from sexiness. For unsexy people--fat people, old people, funny-looking people, disabled people--to even feel sexual desire is inappropriate, perverse, disgusting. For them to engage in sexual display is offensive. For them to have sex...well, there oughta be a law.

Our deepest (and fastest) yearnings can be tempered by reason and experience; our more prudent judgments softened by desire and need.

Our dreams wrapped in desire let us fly high enough to get the reward.

Our desires are like an ocean; vast, and without end.

Our desire to say more grows bigger and what to say about it, except that saying is not always about saying, growing is not always about growing.

Our demons are friends,

Our desire shall be our delight in the Lord.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

Our souls stretched across time, spanning the universe in search of each other and suddenly, there it was...life, love, desire, all we had to do was indulge...

Our mind has evolved in such a way that new wants keep appearing in it relentlessly. But do not confuse them with needs. Needs are necessity, but wants are luxury.

Our eyes meet, and something dangerous sparks. He hates you, I remind myself. “Kiss me again,” he says, drunk and foolish. “Kiss me until I am sick of it.” I feel those words, feel them like a kick to the stomach. He sees my expression and laughs, a sound full of mockery. I can’t tell which of us he’s laughing at. He hates you. Even if he wants you, he hates you. Maybe he hates you the more for it. After a moment, his eyes flutter closed. His voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself. “If you’re the sickness, I suppose you can’t also be the cure.” He drifts off to sleep, but I am wide awake.

Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

Pain is something that we all feel sometimes; however, some of us see it as an opportunity for mental growth, while others interpret theirs as a definite end to their goals, dreams or desires.

Part of me wanted this more than anything else in the world—to have someone to hang out with, be like everyone else for a while. The rest of me screamed to get the hell out of there, not to get sucked in.

Passion is that strong and mostly uncontrollable feeling of love that one has towards what he want to do or does. It is dependent on emotions.

Passionate life is the beauty of a sacred-existence.

Passionate people say to their obstacles “I may fall, I may lose everything I have, but if I still get me, you are still in trouble because am coming back and when I come back, you are doomed”. Passion is a serious secret that sailed people to the top!

Passion for books is the desire to read.

Passion gives you what you want, lust gives you what you desire, but only love gives you what you need.

Part of him wanted to throw her down onto the straw and have done with it. For there was no surer way of losing desire for a woman than to take your fill of her. But he sensed that Eleni might be slow to realise that her duty was to please her sheikh in every aspect that he demanded. His mouth curved into a smile. She would soon learn.

Passion is different from interest. Those who are just interested in things have the “wish”, but passionate people have the “will”.