Sated Quotes by Roxane Gay, Horace, Jose Ortega y Gasset, Gustave Flaubert, Pierre Corneille, Philip Sington and many others.
Emotionally, my ambition is not yet sated. Emotionally, I still feel like a kid at the adult’s table, yearning for recognition. I’m not sure where this all comes from but it is how I feel.
A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.
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?
She was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma had rediscovered in adultery all the banality of marriage.
Ambition displeases when it has been sated … having reached the peak, it aspires to descend.
Desire is an appetite, quickly sated. Longing is a wound, an opening in the heart or the spirit. Whatever the cause, whatever the duration, it almost always leaves a scar.
I can’t think of anything I want and need that I don’t already have but at the same time, I’m not sated.
Often devotion to virtue arises from sated desire.
There is only one way to be prepared for death: to be sated. In the soul, in the heart, in the spirit, in the flesh. To the brim.
I knew the poor,
I knew the hideous death they die,
when famine lays its bleak hand on the door;
I knew the rich,
sated with merriment,
who yet are sad.
I knew the hideous death they die,
when famine lays its bleak hand on the door;
I knew the rich,
sated with merriment,
who yet are sad.
If the spirit has passed through a great many sensations, possibly it can no longer be sated with them, but grows more excited, and demands more sensations, and stronger and stronger ones, until at length it falls exhausted.
The fruition of what is unlawful must be followed by remorse. The core sticks in the throat after the apple is eaten, and the sated appetite loathes the interdicted pleasure for which innocence was bartered.
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.
Just now sated with seed,
You’ve come back to my stable,
Yearning for a good rider, fine meadow,
An icy spring, shady groves.
Desire can’t be sated, because if it is, the longing disappears and then we’ve failed, because desire is the state we seek.
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.
