The desire to be significant casts a pall.
Smiling half-reluctance seems to promise more than the frankest gesture of desire.
I dream of vague shapes that hint of my heart's desire.
When sages commend excess, Desire is sick.
Altruism is for those who cannot endure their desires.
The desire to perform impedes conversation.
Sorrow also fulfills Desire. Example: the Soaps.
Habit keeps my life going, with occasional pushes from desire.
Seek and Hide: the Lover gazes at the Beloved. The Beloved looks away. The Beloved turns and looks at the Lover. The Lover runs away.
Sexual attraction keeps throwing self-interest off course.
My intentions go one way, my desires another. Thus I feel both self-indulgent and deprived.
Desire is wakeful; satisfaction dozes.
I am kept in bondage by the moles of my beloved.
When I try to portray to myself my heart's desire, nothing happens.
The cues that arouse desire are changed by Fashion, but feel like the proddings of Nature.
Shameless: Punish me for my desire if you will. It burns still.
Rebuttals never alter desire.
Yearning wants mostly to perpetuate itself.
As desire recedes, the world becomes clear, pale, and empty.
Dreams are distorted representations of desire. So are dream- analyses.
Dreams surround our desires with ugliness and dread.
Make the expectations lively enough, and action will follow.
The desire to create literature leads to frights, grunts, and coy looks.
In the street, the gaze of desire is furtive or menacing.
My thought has been shaped by books; my desires by pictures.
The extravagance of intellect outstrips the extravagance of desire.
Fantasy mirrors desire. Imagination reshapes it.