hunger/desire

Not the weight of the body but the fact of the body. Not the shape of the body but the needs of the body. How inconvenient to be made up of desire. Even now, want rises up in me like a hot oil. I want so much that it scares me. I don’t know what I’m made of; I wish I did. That I could gut myself like a fish or a fruit.
- Abject Permanence - Larissa
... See moreThe act of cooking imposed a kind of dignity on hunger, which had become terrifying. I couldn’t remember how I had managed hunger, the animal wildness of it, before. At home we gobbled, we were a family who ate. You could sit in front of the television and shove handfuls of crisps into your mouth, you could smother ripped-up pieces of bread with ma
... See moreI can tell you're admiring my febrility. I know it's appealing, I practice at it; every woman loves an invalid. But be careful. You might do something destructive: hunger is more basic than love. Florence Nightingale was a cannibal you know.
- Margaret Atwood, The Edible Woman
The body has needs. The blood has wants.
- roachpatrol



pablo neruda, Love Sonnet XI
Death makes me hungry. Maybe it’s because I’ve been emptied; or maybe it’s the body’s way of seeing to it that I remain alive, continue to repeat its bedrock prayer: I am, I am. I am, still.
I want to go to bed, make love, right now.
I think of the word relish.
I could eat a horse.
-Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale