#des

Desiring money kills desire. Money kills desire. ↗

— André Chamson

#money #money

I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. ↗

— Henry Miller

#silence #solitude #music

Just-fucked hair doesn't suit me. ↗

— E.L. James

#humor

Her lips found his and a stab of exquisite desire shot through him. This is what he's been waiting for all this time. Not a stolen embrace. A gift, freely given. One that he would keep forever in some small part of his soul. ↗

— Courtney Milan

#historical-romance #love #love

Technically, on the spectrum of very bad things, they did nothing truly wicked. But of course, that spectrum has no measure for the greatest of all carnal sins, the kind that occurs before skin touches skin, before wondering turns to yearning, yearning to having, having to holding for dear life, when two people cling to each other so desperately that even when they lie, inches apart, neither is fully satisfied until the light between them turns to darkness. ↗

— Galt Niederhoffer

#desperation #galt-niederhoffer #life #light #love

But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city. ↗

— Evelyn Waugh

#love

I love luxury. And luxury lies not in richness and ornateness but in the absence of vulgarity. Vulgarity is the ugliest word in our language. I stay in the game to fight it. ↗

— Coco Chanel

#game #luxury #modesty #vulgarity #love

There’s a writer for you,” he said. “Knows everything and at the same time he knows nothing.” [narrator]It was my first inkling that he was a writer. And while I like writers—because if you ask a writer anything you usually get an answer—still it belittled him in my eyes. Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person. It’s like actors, who try so pathetically not to look in mirrors. Who lean backward trying—only to see their faces in the reflecting chandeliers. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#descriptions #insider #people #perceptions #writers

Austin stood. “All right, I will.” He walked to the door and stopped, his hand on the latch. He gazed back over his shoulder. “That woman you love . . . Do I know her?” Houston forced himself to meet his brother’s gaze. The boy only knew one woman, if he didn’t count the whores in Dusty Flats. “Yeah, you do.” “She never left your side, not for one minute.” “She should have.” “Well, I’m not learned in these matters, but I’d like to think if a woman ever loved me as much as that one loves you ... I’d crawl through hell to be by her side. ↗

— Lorraine Heath

#houston #lorraine-heath #texas-destiny #love

Are you watching the boats?" Cornelia guessed. She craned her neck to see if there was any excitement on the river. Heavens no, I'm spying on people," Virginia responded unrepentantly. -Cornelia E and Virginia Somerset ↗

— Lesley M.M. Blume

#blume #boats #cornelia #escapades #humor