Imagine what will happen to this nation if large numbers of American women start using the Wonderbra. It will be catastrophic. The male half of the population will be nothing but mindless drooling Zombies of Lust. Granted, this is also true now, but it will be even worse.
He, then, that would mortify any disquieting lust: let him take care to be equally diligent in all parts of obedience, and know that every lust, every omission of duty, is burdensome to God, though only one be burdensome to him.
For what is there more hideous than avarice, more brutal than lust, more contemptible than cowardice, more base than stupidity and folly?
From an early age I knew very strongly the lust to kill.
The lust for power, for dominating others, inflames the heart more than any other passion.
I wasn't in love with her. And she didn't love me. For me the question of love was irrelevant. What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was. But I wanted to thrust my hand right inside her body and touch it, whatever it was.
Men are most apt to believe what they least understand; and through the lust of human wit obscure things are more easily credited.
He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?
The nurse of infidelity is sensuality.
Life's too slippery for books, Clarice; anger appears as lust, lupus presents as hives.
Lust is a thing of the blood. Doesn't need head or heart.
Lust is a sharp spur to vice, which always putteth the affections into a false gallop.
Beauty is a living abiding presence completely untouchable by all the devices of man, such as moral codes, creeds, intellectual analysis, games and cliches, the acquisitive instinct, or lust for anything whatsoever.
Here is how you know if it is love or lust. Push them in front of a bus. If you jump in the way and save them it is love.
The agenda in sexual activity, whether it's appropriate or not, has to do with lust, affection, passion, love, but the agenda in sexual harassment is not any of that. It is power, control, dominance. The tool is the same on both, but the agenda is completely different. That's what distinguishes the two.
Envious because I have a heart, Gluttonous because I have a heart, Greedy because I have a heart, Prideful because I have a heart, Slothful because I have a heart, Wrathful because I have a heart, Because I have a heart, I lust for all that you are.
It is not proof that I sought. I, of all men, know that proof is but a fallacy invented by man to justify to himself and his fellows his own crass lust and folly.
Curiosity is the lust of the mind.
But when I start to kiss someone - lust is the easiest emotion to generate.
I have known a number of Don Juans who were good studs and who cavorted between the sheets without a psychiatrist to guide them. But most of the busy love-makers I knew were looking for masculinity rather than practicing it. They were fellows of dubious lust.