Sated Quotes - Page 2

• Boy, you're like a horse.
  Just now sated with seed,
  You've come back to my stable,
  Yearning for a good rider, fine meadow,
  An icy spring, shady groves.

  Theognis of Megara

  Horse, Spring, Boys

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• I had left home (like all Jewish girls) in order to eat pork and take birth control pills. When I first shared an intimate evening with my husband, I was swept away by the passion (so dormant inside myself) of a long and tortured existence. The physical cravings I had tried so hard to deny, finally and ultimately sated ... But enough about the pork.

  Roseanne Barr

  Girl, Husband, Passion

  6 Copy quote

• A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.

  Horace

  Blood, Skins, Leeches

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• Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday's excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.

  Horace

  Essence, Yesterday, Soul

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• The choice is yours: Enjoy a delicious meal of, say, veal fantarella with grilled vegetables. Or spend a quiet hour reading David Gregory's book. You may find an altogether different sort of hunger has been sated by the final page. Brilliant in its simplicity, fearless in its presentation of the truth, Dinner with a Perfect Stranger is one invitation you'll want to RSVP.

  Liz Curtis Higgs

  Book, Reading, Vegetables

  6 Copy quote

• Women believe -- or at least often pretend to believe -- that all our tenderness for them springs from desire; that we love them when we have not for a time enjoyed them, and dismiss them when we are sated, or to express it more precisely, exhausted. There is no truth in this idea, though it may be made to appear true. When we are rigid with desire, we are apt to pretend a great tenderness in the hope of satisfying that desire; but at no other time are we in fact so liable to treat women brutally, and so unlikely to feel any deep emotion but one.

  Gene Wolfe

  Spring, Women, Believe

  Gene Wolfe (1994). “Shadow & Claw: The First Half of 'The Book of the New Sun'”, p.372, Macmillan

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• Beethoven and Wagner for many years wrung our hearts. But now we are sated with them and derive much greater pleasure from ideally combining the noise of streetcars, internal-combustion engines, automobiles, and bust crowds than from rehearsing, for example, the 'Eroica' or the 'Pastorale'...away! les ust be gone, since we shall not much longer succeed in restraining a desire to create a new musical realism by a generous distribution of sonorous blows and slaps, leaping numbly over violins, pianofortes, contrabasses, and groaning organs, Away!

  Luigi Russolo

  Heart, Blow, Years

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• I missed the sound of her shuffling her homework while I listened to music on her bed. I missed the cold of her feet against my legs when she climbed into bed. I missed the shape of her shadow where it fell across the page of my book. I missed the smell of her hair and the sound of her breath and my Rilke on her nightstand and her wet towel thrown over the back of her desk chair. It felt like I should be sated after having a whole day with her, but it just made me miss her more.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Book, Smell, Feet

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “Linger”, p.289, Scholastic Inc.

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• Daytime sleep is like the sin of the flesh; the more you have the more you want, and yet you feel unhappy, sated and unsated at the same time.

  Umberto Eco

  Sleep, Unhappy, Flesh

  Umberto Eco (2014). “The Name of the Rose”, p.167, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• The assurance that we have no means of answering [final] questions is no valid excuse for callousness towards them. The more deeply should we feel, down to the roots of our being, their pressure and their sting. Whose hunger has ever been [sated] with the knowledge that he could not eat?

  Jose Ortega y Gasset

  Mean, Roots, Finals

  "History as a System". Book by Jose Ortega y Gasset, 1962.

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• She was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma had rediscovered in adultery all the banality of marriage.

  Gustave Flaubert

  Tired, Adultery, Emma

  gustave flaubert (1950). “madame bovary”

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