Laini Taylor Quotes

Nothing else but an insatiate thirst of enjoying a greedily desired object.

Love manifests itself in our bodies as instinctive craving, in our souls as devotion, and in our minds as pride.

Never a possession, always the possessor, with skin as pale as smoke, and eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine: Desire is everything you have ever wanted. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Everything.

If I like something, I then have to study every single aspect of it to find out if there's more things that I would like, and it's just this weird hunger to want more. I always feel like there's so much that exists.

I'm obsessed with food!

I'm as hungry as ever.

Ambition is a drug that makes its addicts potential madmen.

The hankering of the mind is irresistible.

When I want a thing, I want it dreadfully.

People have a wild response to something, and they want it. Sometimes people lose themselves.

Dorian used to watch you like a starving man who wants meat. Now he looks at you like he wants seconds.

No. No games. He wanted her and didn't care who knew it. He definitely and absolutely wanted her, longed for her, wanted to do more things than there were names for with her.

He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.

By my soul, I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep; nor, what's still worse, love any woman in the world but her.

I just want some time, Mikhail, to think things through. It’s frightening, the way I am about you. I think about you every minute; I want to touch you, just to know I can, to feel you beneath my fingers. It’s as if you crawled into my head and my heart, even my body, and I can’t get you out.

Desire is poison at lunch and wormwood at dinner; your bed is a stone, friendship is hateful and your fancy is always fixed on one thing.

The dead are happy, having no desire. I rise and fall, and rise and fall again, Something is in me, famishing for bread, Baffled and unappeasable as fire.

Longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances.

You perhaps now know that desire reduces us to pulp.

I am the slave of those who hunger and thirst after me and treat everything else as unimportant.

So it persists, for many of us, hunger channeled into some internal circuitry of longing, routed this way and that, emerging in a thousand different forms. The diet form, the romance form, the addiction form, the overriding hunger for this purchase or that job, this relationship or that one. Hunger may be insatiable by nature, it may be fathomless, but our will to fill it, our often blind tenacity in the face of it, can be extraordinary.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

The appetite grows for what it feeds on.

Ah, if I could only pray the way that dog looks at meat.