Iggy Pop - William Shakespeare - Thomas Mallery - Jimmy Carter - Proverbs 6:24-26&32 - Matthew 5:27&28 - Jeremiah 5:8 - Sylvia Plath - Marquis de Sade - Vladimir Nabokov - James Joyce - Thomas Hobbes -
Lust For Life. Iggy Pop
Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled
Since sweating lust on earth usurped his name,
Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves
Love comforted, like sunshine after rain,
But lust’s effect is tempest after sun,
Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain;
Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done.
Love surfeits not; lust like a glutton lies,
Love is all truth, lust full of forget lies. William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis
Pure chastity is rifled of her store,
And lust, the thief, far poorer than before. William Shakespeare, The Rape of Lucrece 693-694
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight. William Shakespeare, Sonnet 129
The strongest oaths are straw to the fire of the blood. William Shakespeare, The Tempest 2010 starring Helen Mirren & Felicity Jones & Chris Cooper & Russell Brand & Reeve Carney & Tom Conti & Alan Cumming & Dimon Hounsou & Alfred Molina & Ben Whishaw et al, director Julie Taymor, Prospera
The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom and to bring forth fruit. Sir Thomas Mallery
I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something that God recognizes I will do – and I have done it – and God forgives me for it. Jimmy Carter, article Playboy magazine
To keep thee from the evil woman, from the flattery of the tongue of a strange woman.
Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids.
For by means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of bread: and the adultress will hunt for the precious life.
But whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding: he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul. Proverbs 6:24-26&32
Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery:
But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. Matthew 5:27&28
They were fed as horses in the morning: every one neighed after his neighbour’s wife. Jeremiah 5:8
If they substituted the word ‘Lust’ for ‘Love’ in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth. Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Lust’s passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes. Marquis de Sade
Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust. Marquis de Sade
Whatever lithophanic eternities might be provided for me, nothing could make my Lolita forget the foul lust I had inflicted upon her. Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her – after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred – I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever – for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation) – and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again – and ‘oh, no’, Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure – all would be shattered. ibid.
Such moments passed and the wasting fires of lust sprang up again. The verses passed from his lips and the inarticulate cries and the unspoken brutal words rushed forth from his brain to force a passage. His blood was in revolt. He wandered up and down the dark slimy streets peering into the gloom of lanes and doorways, listening eagerly for any sound. He moaned to himself like some baffled prowling beast. He wanted to sin with another of his kind, to force another being to sin with him and to exult with her in sin. He felt some dark presence moving irresistibly upon him from the darkness, a presence subtle and murmurous as a flood filling him wholly with itself. Its murmur besieged his ears like the murmur of some multitude in sleep; its subtle streams penetrated his being. His hands clenched convulsively and his teeth set together as he suffered the agony of its penetration. He stretched out his arms in the street to hold fast the frail swooning form that eluded him and incited him: and the cry that he had strangled for so long in his throat issued from his lips. It broke from him like a wail of despair from a hell of sufferers and died in a wail of furious entreaty, a cry for an iniquitous abandonment, a cry which was but the echo of an obscene scrawl which he had read on the oozing wall of a urinal. James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Curiosity is the lust of the mind. Thomas Hobbes