desire

You get in life that which is your deep driving desire.

God desires to use you to the best of your to the best of your potentials.

Your desire for increase is a sign that we are alive

The warm, pulsing breath of the sweet grass surged through the open windows in a fashion to turn the head of a stone image. It was exotic, too sweet, exaggerated, like everything else in this climate! Cornelis turned over again, seeking a cool place on the broad bed. Then he sat up in bed, impatiently throwing off the sheet. A thin streak of moonlight edged the bed below his feet. He slipped out of bed, walked over to a window. He leaned out, looking down at the acres of undulating grass. There seemed to be some strange, hypnotic rhythm to it, some vague magic, as it swayed in the night wind. The scent poured over him in great, pulsing breaths. He shut his eves and drew it in, abandoning his senses to its effect.("Sweet Grass")

Let me tell you what I want,' he said fiercely. 'For a start, I want you. I told you that, but perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I want the whole package, hang-ups, fears and phobias, as well as the good parts.

Love is giving without desiring, it's giving without requiring, but know that it will be returned. Maybe not as expected, but as needed

Without the will or desire to achieve one is like flotsam on the oceans of time.

The source of love, as I learned later, is a curiosity which, combined with the inclination which nature is obliged to give us in order to preserve itself. [_] Hence women make no mistake in taking such pains over their person and their clothing, for it is only by these that they can arouse a curiosity to read them in those whom nature at their birth declared worthy of something better than blindness. [_] As time goes on a man who has loved many women, all of them beautiful, reaches the point of feeling curious about ugly women if they are new to him. He sees a painted woman. The paint is obvious to him, but it does not put him off. His passion, which has become a vice, is ready with the fraudulent title page. __t is quite possible,_ he tells himself, __hat the book is not as bad as all that; indeed, it may have no need of this absurd artifice._ He decides to scan it, he tries to turn over the pages__ut no! the living book objects; it insists on being read properly, and the __gnomaniac_ becomes a victim of coquetry, the monstrous persecutor of all men who ply the trade of love.You, Sir, who are a man of intelligence and have read these least twenty lines, which Apollo drew from my pen, permit me to tell you that if they fail to disillusion you, you are lost__hat is, you will be the victim of the fair sex to the last moment of your life. If that prospect pleases you, I congratulate you

I just don't understand why those who fail to listen to others possess a habitual desire to be listened to.

Well, your perfect erotic object remains only in recognition memory); and his absolute absence from reconstruction memory becomes the yearning that is, finally, desire. That socially surrounded absence, when you__e young, masks a lot of things in the real world; when you__e older and a few thousand sexual encounters have begun to clear what desire is about (or perhaps what really lies about desire) and you have begun to perceive desire__ edges, its effect is not so much that of an obliterator any more as it is that of a distorting lens. If you can smile at what you see through, it__ sometimes illuminating.

You can't please all men, but you must desire to please God and love Him forever more.

If you are what you eat, then why aren__ you what you desire?"Desire stands in the great no-man__ land of human activity: the zone of most conflict, fear, and anxiety. It scares us. We are often asked to hate it__y those who claim to have given it up for __etter_ things, and who often, hypocritically, haven__.

...some secrets beg to be betrayed. The secret of undeclared love is like that.

Desire without action will collapse all hope built inside.

She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman, and nothing he'd ever thought to find in a lady.

Over-thinking, a devouring monster,entice, only the inky reflections;there's a pleasure you come by,from this anomalous encounter;kills your desire, for human affection.

It is not by means of a metaphor that a banking or stock-market transaction, a claim, a coupon, a credit, is able to arouse people who are not necessarily bankers. And what about the effects of money that grows, money that produces more money? There are socioeconomic "complexes" that are also veritable complexes of the unconscious, and that communicate a voluptuous wave from the top to the bottom of their hierarchy (the military-industrial complex). And ideology, Oedipus, and the phallus have nothing to do with this, because they depend on it rather than being its impetus. For it is a matter of flows, of stocks, of breaks in and fluctuations of flows; desire is present wherever something flows and runs, carrying along with it interested subjects__ut also drunken or slumbering subjects__oward lethal destinations.

He was hers. To have and hold. Not forever, maybe--not forever, for sure--and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now, he was hers. And he wanted her to touch him. He was like a cat who pushes its head under your hands.