Paullina Simons Quotes

I want you too much. I want you with me, in my life, in my bed. If i can have that, nothing else matters.

Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.

Just you,' Hardy said when he got his breath back. 'All I want is you.

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.

My love is as a fever, longing still.

He bowed is head into my throat, groaning softly. "I loved you long before you loved me. Its the only thing I have you beat at, and ill bring it up every chance I get." His mouth pressed to my skin, took on a devilish curve. "Lets get out of here. I'm taking you back to my place, this time for good. We have unfinished business, and I think its time we do something about it.

I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.

There is something incredibly arousing about being wanted. I pulled my hand back and sucked in a deep breath. “Adam,” I said.

Love clamors far more incessantly and passionately at a closed gate than an open one!

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.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.

And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she’d be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she’d boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she’d let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she’d wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed.

I want whatever part of you I can have.

To be loved to madness--such was her great desire. Love was to her the one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of her days. And she seemed to long for the abstraction called passionate love more than for any particular lover.

Love is when the desire to be desired takes you so badly that you feel you could die of it.

Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.

What love is depends on where you are in relation to it. Secure in it, it can feel as mundane and necessary as air - you exist within it, almost unnoticing. Deprived of it, it can feel like an obsession; all consuming - a physical pain.

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

When I want a thing, I want it dreadfully.

I think most people can relate to the feeling of love spilling over into obsession.

Or as an ook comth of a litel spir, So thorugh this lettre, which that she hym sente, Encressen gan desir, of which he brente.

She knew she shouldn't want him with every fiber of her being, but she couldn't help herself. Gazing at him feeling his touch - the rest of the world faded into the background

He was in my hair, my eyes, my fingers, my heart. I day-dreamed about what he was doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. I could not eat for thoughts of him.