Best 5910 quotes in «desire quotes» category

It's nothing serious," he said. "It's just an obsession.

It’s not my wish to walk intoxicated; to live for never is not my choice.

Its not your fault for not being there. Its my fault for thinking you would be

It's okay to want things, Cole. It's okay to go after them, too.

It's precisely in despair that you find the most intense pleasure, especially if you are already powerfully conscious of the hopelessness of your predicament.

It's that feeling you get somehow knowing that something great is about to happen... about to happen. While every passing day nothing great really does happen. You wake up, go to classes, study, sleep and wait for another monotonous day. You know the great day is not tomorrow, not even the day after, not even in a week or a month's time. But it says it will come soon, the way you live your life, one day at a time, only to realize 20 years have elapsed effortlessly. It will come soon, the way you meet someone without expecting or knowing that you are going to have so much fun together. It will come soon, the way dreams come true overnight- demanding years of perspiration, ironically. It will come soon like a gush of cold air in a hot afternoon. It will come soon like a stranger you feel you have already met. It will come like a guest who would be here to stay. It will come like an eternity, a serendipity, an irony. It will come when it is time for it to come, the way you fall asleep and dreams arrive from a distant land, surely but stealthily.

It's unnerving how you fit in the basin of my thighs.

It's wonderful to feel desired. There's a sense of power in it, really.

It’s whatever the majority deems it to be. It’s not necessarily the best or the most logical, but it’s the one that has become adapted to the desires of society as a whole.

It was a desire, an echo, a sound; she could drape it in color, see it in form, hear it in music, but not in words; no, never in words. She sighed, teased by desires so incoherent, so incommunicable.

It took so long to find you...and now I don't want it to change. I want it all set in amber. I want us and nobody else in the most selfish way you can imagine. I can't help it--I'm old-fashioned. I believe marriage is between a man and a man.

It was a dictum of his that the soul's energy thrives when the body's desires are feeblest.

It was as if he wore a mask and whatever went on behind it wasn't for the world --or her--to see. And she wanted to. She wanted to be that woman, the one who knew him inside and out.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

It was love. It was lust. It was just between us. The passion, the desire, the fire. The way we held on in so little time and his eyes when he saw me for the first time.

It wasn't a glorious or grand act of misadventure but it was a start. It wasn't what I should have done but it was what I truly wanted to do.

I’ve always liked women with some sadness in their eyes; with some blush on their cheeks; with some innocence in their hearts; with some desire on their lips; with some sins in their past.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. I glanced back, and saw the underwear torn and discarded, a little strip of thin black material on the floor, and thought, Yes, this is the kind of impatient sex I’m looking for. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

I used to listen to all the voices in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough, or that I would fail if I tried, or that everyone would judge me harshly for my truth. I used to let one fear or the other dictate how I chose to live my life. Not surprisingly, my life didn’t change much. I spent a lot of time with regret, and thinking about what could have been. I found myself wishing I’d at least tried to do some of the things I’d been so afraid to do. So I began to. I made the choice to hear all the fearful critics in my head without actually listening to them. I gave them a voice, but no longer a say. I had given all the power to my fear, after all, so it was within me to take it away. And my entire life changed, as every life does once we insist that our fears take a backseat to our courage and desire. Fear may not be a choice, but the commitment to take brave action, despite our fears, is always there for the choosing. I spent enough time obeying my fears. Too much time. Now I listen to different voices, the ones reminding me that no matter what happens, no matter what people think, the great potential of my life, and joy, lives within my commitment to live my life beyond my fear.

I've never stopped wanting to cross the equator, or touch an elk's horns, or sing Tosca or screw James Dean in a field of wheat. To hell with wisdom. They're all wrong: I'll never be through with my life.

I’ve pressed so far away from my desire that if you asked me what I want I would, accepting the harmonious completion of the drift, say annihilation, probably.

I've often wondered, 'Who am I to disturb the natural order of things?' Then God reminded me that I am a part of the natural order of things. When I am true to my heart, true to myself, I am part of Her ebb and flow. I am part of Her great Sea.

I've wandered through the real world, and written myself through the darkness of the streets inside me. I see people walking through the city and wonder where they've been, and what the moments of their lives have done to them. If they're anything like me, their moments have held them up and shot them down. Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more. That's when the stories show up in me. They find me all the time. They're made of underdogs and fighters. They're made of hunger and desire and trying to live decent. The only trouble is, I don't know which of those stories comes first. Maybe they all just merge into one. We'll see, I guess. I'll let you know when I decide.

IV   The bounded is loathed by its possessor. The same dull round even of a universe would soon become a mill with complicated wheels. V   If the many become the same as the few, when possess'd, More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul, less than All cannot satisfy Man. VI   If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot. VII   The desire of Man being Infinite the possession is Infinite & himself Infinite.

I wanted a Fakahatchee ghost orchid, in full bloom, maybe attached to a gnarled piece of custard apple tree, and I wanted its roots to spread as broad as my hand and each root to be only as wide as a toothpick. I wanted the bloom to be snow-white, white as sugar, white as lather, white as teeth. I knew its shape by heart, the peaked face with the droopy mustache of petals, the albino toad with its springy legs. It would not be the biggest or the showiest or the rarest or the finest flower here, except to me, because I wanted it.

I wanted so much from her. I wanted her to help me understand the erratic and irrational way she made me feel. I wanted her to tell me why I could hardly breathe. I felt like I was drowning every time I saw her, yet I refused to look away. I wanted her to smile at me. I wanted her to keep me a prisoner of her captivating eyes for a little longer. I wanted her to lean closer to me for reasons I couldn't comprehend. I wanted her to stay here with me even though she made me so dangerously weak. I wanted so much from her, but more than anything, I wanted to know her.

I wanted the mind of a scholar, but it seemed that Dr. Kerry saw in me the mind of a roofer. The other students belonged in the library; I belonged in a crane.

I want her beyond reason. I need to own, consume, worship, devour. What I've made of her in my mind cannot live in flesh.

I want him everywhere. I burn for him in places he hasn't even touched.

I wanted to write ‘stay’ on your sides, surround your bed with oceans of salt. I hope he folds you into a fox, loves you like a splintered arrow, brandishes the kill of your lips. May the bouquet of your hips wither. May the wolves forget your name.

I wanted to take your hand into mine and kiss it. I never dared.

I want him to be with me because he likes being with me, not because he's forced to be with me or because he wants something from me. That's not how friendship should be." [Ellani]

I want to be loved so badly, it verges on mild insanity.

I want to feel the victory of being desired by someone I once found desirable.

I want to need you.

I want you. And I usually get what I want. I had to wait too long to have you already.

I want your scent to intoxicate my passions to the point where lust is merely a word, dancing upon our flames of desire...

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

I was a puppet on the strings to my cravings and desires.

I was hot and horny as hell. Which was typical of me. I’m twenty-five, and I’m healthy, and a healthy girl is always thinking about sex.

I was not sorrowful, but only tired Of everything that ever I desired.

I was willing to yield to nostalgia, that melancholy residue of desire.

I will gladly deal with the inconveniences that may attend living my life as I see fit, rather than be the kind of man who would forsake his own desires in order to seek or preserve the acceptance of lesser men. ~ Dave Champion

I will be all that I am capable of being.

I will keep reading.

I will not exorcise you—I’d miss your fragrance, the soft tread of your step on the stair

I will not serve God like a labourer, in expectation of my wages. Rabia

I will make love to your soul I will love you as forever I will make love to your fingers To fill the spaces between you and the world -Each of your sighs will invite another. I will make love to your eyes, -What you have of unsatisfied, You will live by the touch of my hands You will remember me who I am And if the world has an order -Each of your sighs will invite another.

Listen to what is being preached today. Look at everyone around us. You’ve wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it. If any man stopped and asked himself whether he’s ever held a truly personal desire, he’d find the answer. He’d see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He’s not really struggling even for material wealth, but for the second-hander’s delusion - prestige. A stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded. He can’t say about a single thing: ‘This is what I wanted because I wanted it, not because it made my neighbors gape at me’. Then he wonders why he’s unhappy.

Listen to your own intuit. Have stronger wisdom to judge your own belief and things that you desire to do NOT what others want you to do.