Anita Shreve Quotes

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.

You perhaps now know that desire reduces us to pulp.

Lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst.

Desire is no light thing.

Desire, even in its wildest tantrums, can neither persuade me it is love nor stop me from wishing it were.

She knew what it felt like to tremble like that before touching someone -- desire so acute that it became despair.

I'm awaiting a lover. I have to be rent and pulled apart and live according to the demons and the imagination in me. I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

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.

The greatest mania of all is passion: and I am a natural slave to passion: the balance between my brain and my soul and my body is as wild and delicate as the skin of a Ming vase.

I'm losing my mind without you.” His lips were gliding down my neck, his tongue stroking over my racing pulse. He sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.

There was a disturbance in my heart, a voice that spoke there and said, I want, I want, I want! It happened every afternoon, and when I tried to suppress it it got even stronger.

Desire is craving enough to sacrifice for

An anguish of longing would boil up inside me; a hysterical thirst for contradictions and contrasts would appear, and I would embark on dissipations.

So much wanting and longing, clutching, desiring, passion and hatred and terrible need. Here, death was suitable, there was room for it, the grip of life's relentless urges slackened, replaced by this icy simplicity. This wasnt her death. It was his. That was the sad and honest truth. Though it would stay with her, it would be more like a black onyx heart on a silver chain, worn privately, under her clothes, close to her body, all her life. The guilt, the beauty, everything. It wasnt over, it had only begun. Well ok then, Okay.

I am a jumble of passions, misgivings, and wants. It seems that I am always in a state of wishing and rarely in a state of contentment.

I want - I want - I want - was all that she could think about - but just what this real want was she did not know.

I'd sell my soul to have you. In my whole life, you'll always be what I wanted most." ~ Hardy Cates

Nothing remains but desire, and desire comes howling down Elysian Fields like a mistral.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

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

His eyes burned violet - not with anger but with intense desire. The kind of look that made you love a person so much, you missed him even when he was standing right in front of you.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

I'd forgotten how that sort of craving felt, how it rose suddenly and loudly from the pit of my stomach like a flock of startle birds, then floated back down in the slow, beguiling way of feathers.

Oh Alexander," she said, "what do you want from me..." "Everything!" he whispered fiercely.