want

You must want it, to chase for it.

You keep looking at me like that and we won't make it through dinner. I'll take you right there on that counter. No doubt you'd taste better.

What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight toward a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster?_If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or_is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?

You have to know what you want to ever be able to have it.

A spark of every fire we seek is already within us.

What you choose also chooses you.

Put your hand on your heart and ask yourself, what do I want? The first thing that comes to mind is always the right one.

Ever since I could read, I__e wanted to write a book. I never thought I had anything to write about. Maybe you don__ think this is worth writing about. But this book isn__ for you. It__ for me.

I want people to feel safe around me. Calm and at peace and I want to make people feel accepted. I want to express confidence on my own path, and spread confidence to other people on theirs.

I will toil under sun for what I want.

Loving you was hard, wanting you was harder, but kissing your forehead was insanity.

We do things because we want it, not because they__e good for us.

You don__ need them. It__ that simple. But for some reason it__ complex. It__ difficult. It__ dangerous. We can__ seem to fathom it.

To see her is to be seduced by her.

Envy and respect are not the same things...Before I endow you with respect, I should find out whether your curiosity is intellectual or merely morbid. Not that those who gawk at train derailments are so different from those who conduct autopsies; both want, at some level, to know what has happened, and, by extension, what will happen. Did the liver fail because of the decedent's alcoholism or was some toxin administered? If the deliverer is found, he or she may be imprisoned or, in more honest times, hanged, and thus pose no further threat. Or for the gawker at the accident, espying loose parts not unlike his or her own parts strewn amid wreckage may lead to a sense of awe at death's power, or horror at life's fragility, either of which may be instructive in any number of ways.

You know what, your imagination works faster than your mind.

The mind is a curious thing, Abby. We see what we want to see, we hear what we're hoping to hear. The one thing we all do well is fool ourselves.

Part of me wanted this more than anything else in the world__o 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.