Definitions HQ

Desire (n.) at ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its first dreaming stage possesses what will become its object without having desired it — and so does not possess it; its pain lies not in too little but in too much.

Desire (n.) needs ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠distance as a ceiling needs space: paint it all over with figures and the room presses down; paint one light figure, and the room seems higher.

Desire (n.) and ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its object are twins born at exactly the same instant — and the point of their birth is not that they are united but that they are separated.

Desire (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠three stages: in the first it dreams, in the second it seeks, in the third it desires.

Desire (n.) reaches ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its absolute form in Don Juan: it has its absolute object in the particular and desires the particular absolutely — herein lies seductiveness.

Desire (n.) wants, ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠in Don Juan, the whole of womanhood in every woman — and that idealizing force both embellishes and overcomes its prey, who flushes with enhanced beauty in its reflection.

Desire (n.) is, ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠in its potency, of more value in the last resort than any fulfilment: Aladdin would rank high for the wish even had none been granted.

Desire (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠meets no external impediment and still does not grasp shows there is something higher constraining the wish — the idea.

Desire (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a very sophisticated passion: it finds excuses, makes low offers to salve the conscience, and keeps good resolutions always at hand.

Desire (n.) suffers ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the chief imperfection of all things human: its object is first attainable through its opposite.

Desire (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠both sinful and dull in our age, because we desire what belongs to our neighbor; folk literature knew the neighbor has it no more than we do.

Desire (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is vehement and persistent may want what it knows nothing about, perhaps the exact opposite of what it supposes, as with the wish to be edified.

Desire (n.) after ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠loss can be worse than the loss: the worm in the soul that will not die.

Desire (n.) makes ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the eye a bow aimed outward and the soul a string the world plucks; master it and you must first own the eye before it marks its prey.

Desire (n.) cooled ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is not loss: better to have lost some of the burning wish and gained the assurance that life cannot deceive you.