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Quote by Maurice Blanchot

“We cannot recall our dreams, they cannot come back to us. If a dream comes – but what sort of coming is a dream's? Through what night does it make its way? If it comes to us, it does so only by way of forgetfulness, a forgetfulness which is not only censorship or simply repression. We dream without memory, in such a way that the dream of any particular night is no doubt a fragment of a response to an immemorial dying, barred by desire’s repetitiousness. There is no stop, there is no interval between dreaming and waking. In this sense, it is possible to say: never, dreamer, can you awake (nor, for that matter, are you able to be addressed thus, summoned). The dream is without end, waking is without beginning; neither one nor the other ever reaches itself. Only dialectical language relates them to each other in view of a truth.”

Author

Maurice Blanchot

Maurice Blanchot was a French writer known for his profound philosophical thoughts and unique literary style. His works spanned across philosophy, literary criticism, and fiction, profoundly influencing French culture in the 20th century. more

“I'll be honest with you, the number one reason for all of my past break ups was too much complacency. I'm not perfect, but I just know I'm not cut out for mediocrity in any shape or form. Moreover, I think this has a lot to do with my life purpose as well. I believe I was not brought into this world to turn complacent women into passionate women, but rather to turn passionate women into goddesses.”

Desire Relationships Passionate Sensuality Mediocrity Goddess Complacency Live With Passion Life Purpose Quotes Feminine Woman

Author:Lebo Grand

“The Tuesday Seamstress said our souls were sewn apart. Delicate embroidered tomorrows travelled without a start.”

Love Desire Time Passion Dreams Sewing Sewing Souls

Book:Under the Rose

Source: Under the Rose

“Desire, desire! I have too dearly bought, With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware.”

Desire Philip Sidney

Author:Philip Sidney

“Niru, you're welcome to stay if you want, Ms. McConnell says to me without looking up from her desk. Without students in the classroom she is much smaller and more feminine. I stare at her legs visible beneath her desk and at the way her blonde hair falls about her face as she reads the New Yorker. Porn makes it look so easy, so casual, so routine. Older women are supposed to crave fresh young meat, to lick their pen tops absentmindedly while thinking about us, to squeeze their legs together in a good faith effort to keep from corrupting the younger generations. And I am supposed to stumble forward both confused and uncontrolled, pulled by my relentless desire like light towards a black hole. Except I am unmoved. I imagine Ms. McConnell naked, perched at the edge of her desk, legs crossed waiting for me to cross the room and give her what she needs. That's how they always say it, that they will take what they want, get what they need, that hardcore sex is good punishment for bad behavior. I wonder if it would set the record straight for me. It's nice outside, Ms. McConnell says, you should enjoy the day. Her stare makes me feel like she can read my thoughts and I am suddenly embarrassed.”

Desire Sexuality Daydreaming