Diana Gabaldon Quotes

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.

Variety, multiplicity are the two most powerful vehicles of lust.

It's about giving the people what they want. So many people have told me that they've made love to my records so what I've delivered this time is an album about sex. Pretty much every song has that theme. Straight no chasers, it's booty music!

The power of sexual attraction is a real thing.

Lust tastes like tequila and love tastes like whiskey. Love burns for longer and warms you up on the inside and sometimes it makes you do stupid things. Tequila makes you wasted.

Love is the great conqueror of lust.

But when I start to kiss someone - lust is the easiest emotion to generate.

The one man you most want to sleep with may be the worst choice of all.

If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.

Lust, forgetful of future suffering, hurries us along the forbidden path.

Pleasure is our first and kindred good. It is the starting point of every choice and of every aversion, and to it we always come back, inasmuch as we make feeling the rule by which to judge of every good thing.

Aphrodite is about lust and gluttony - the only two sins worth committing, in my opinion.

Sexual pleasure is, I agree, a passion to which all others are subordinate but in which they all unite.

Wine, not too much, inspires and make the mind,to the soft joys of Venus strong inclined,which, buried in excess, unapt to love,stupidly lies and knows not hom to move

Sex is always about emotions. Good sex is about free emotions; bad sex is about blocked emotions.

I know love and lust don't always keep the same company.

Gabriel pulled her over his body to lie on the bed beside him. His kisses pressed her down into the oblivion of the mattress as her hands explored his chest, his shoulders, his face. "I want to lay my kill at your feet," he said, more growl than words, and held her tight by her hair as he marked her neck with his teeth. She writhed against him. She wanted to bite him, she wanted to rip the flesh from his back, but most terrible of all, she didn't want him to stop. Her back arched, her body shattered, she howled.

When desire, having rejected reason and overpowered judgment which leads to right, is set in the direction of the pleasure which beauty can inspire . . .

Partake of love as a temperate man partakes of wine; do not become intoxicated.

Love makes the world go 'round, it's true, but lust stops the world in its tracks; love renders bearable the passage of time, lust causes time to stand still, lust kills time, which is not to say that it wastes it or whiles it aimlessly away but rather that it annihilates it, cancels it, extirpates it from continuum; preventing, while lasts, any lapse into the tense and shabby woes of temporal society, lust is the thousand-pound odometer needle on the dashboard of the absolute.

What we share with animals is a desire for choice. It's a desire to have control over our life and a desire to live and use choice as a way in which we can facilitate our ability to live and that is something we really were born with.

Lust is raw selfishness. It's all about my wants, my needs, my pleasure. Most love songs are actually lust songs.

To be honest, I thought it was similar to animal husbandry." Sally's tone turned dry. "Sometimes, my lady I'm afraid it isn't that different." Pippa paused, considering the ords. "Is that so?" "Men are uncomplicated, generally," Sally said, all too sage. "They're beasts when they want to be." "Brute ones!" "Ah, so you understand." Pippa tilted her head to one side. "I've read about them." Sally nodded. "Erotic texts?" "The book of Common Prayer.

Let every emotion be capable becoming an intoxication to you. If what you eat fails to make you drunk, it is because you are not hungry enough.

There are other books in a man's library besides Ovid, and after dawdling ever so long at a woman's knee, one day he gets up and is free. We have all been there; we have all had the fever--the strongest and the smallest, from Samson, Hercules, Rinaldo, downward: but it burns out, and you get well.