lust

Seriously, men._ Gina scowls when she turns back to us. __e__e royalty when they want to fuck. Thrilled to have as much sex as their anatomy allows, and then we__e nothing.Women need a reason to have sex, men just need a place.

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__ 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.

Just like the devil is against God. I think the so called love is against success. Tryna slow people's lives.

We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when He made life so sad. We made vague plans to meet in Frisco.

Sin is passionate lust in the flesh.

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her __fter fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred__ would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever__or all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)__nd the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again__nd 'oh, no,' Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure__ll would be shattered.

In the morning, that moment, when I knew it was you. When I could feel you breathing and we opened our eyes at the exact same time.

You talked over the tour guide who pointed to houses and windows. Showing us where people had lived and died and other people now stayed in their place. Just like a broken heart." - Adieu

LOVE is made up of a strong affection and patience whiles LUST is made up of a strong affection and impatience. Affection is common to them, but patience is not common.

When someone does`nt wanna talk to you, you have no choice but to help them.

She had seen this relationship dying before it ever lived, but allowed optimism and lust to blind her.

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.

She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unravelled the last thread holding him together.

Where there is desire, the means to fulfill it are endless.

There are greater things than want and lust, Nerissa," he whispered. "I can't afford those things.

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!

His strength for your weakness! His wisdom for your folly! His drive for your drift! His grace for your greed! His love for your lust! His peace for your problems! His joy for your sorrow! His plenty for your poverty!

The truth is the object of our lustBut the light is still so very dim_