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Quote by Philippe Besson

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Lie With Me

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Philippe Besson

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“Only for a moment; but it was enough. It was a sudden revelation, a tinge like a blush when one tried to check and then, as it spread, one yielded to its expansion, and rushed to the farthest verge and there quivered and felt the world come closer, swollen with some astonishing significance, some pressure of rapture, which split its thin skin and gushed and poured with an extraordinary alleviation over the cracks and sores! Then, for that moment, she had seen an illumination; a match burning in a crocus; an inner meaning almost expressed. But the close withdrew; the hard softened. It was over — the moment.”

Desire
Book:Mrs. Dalloway
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“He cut off her protest with his mouth. When he was certain she would no longer object, he moved his lips from her mouth to her breast. They were so full and fit perfectly in his hands. She cried out when his tongue flicked her sensitive nipple so he did it again and again. Her response was driving him wild. His plan had been to take his time and wait for her to come to him. But the moment she'd said his name, he was lost. Couldn't control himself. She was his. Nobody else's. With that thought on his brain he let himself go. Frantically, he slammed into her and she met every thrust head-on, grinding into him as he came.”

DesireSexyDominantAchePossessiveH S HoweJingle My SnowballsObsessed HeroThe Whole Christmas PackageBurning Need
Book:Jingle My Snowballs
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“...to seek happiness in the satisfaction of a desire of the mind was as naive as to attempt to reach the horizon by walking straight ahead. The further the desire advances, the further does real possession recede. So that if happiness, or at least the absence of suffering, can be found, it is not the satisfaction, but the gradual reduction and eventual extinction of desire that one should seek.”

HappinessJoyDesireSufferingBalancePossession
Book:The Captive / The Fugitive
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“Ode to My Desire I have always been hungry; fingers dipped in sugar, salt across my lips. Four children have passed through my body and still here I am, asking for your hands on my hips, voice in my ear. For melon and honey cream. For you to not make love to me. Take me— but wait until I plead. There is nothing like the impatient thrum of wanting. All legs and foaming mouth. In hallways I play a game called 'kissing,' imagining every woman as a lover, every man with his mouth on mine. How different they must look when they are in heat.”

DesirePoetry
Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems
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