“I suppose this was the first time I had ever felt an urge not to be. Never an urge to die, far less an urge to put an end to myself - simply an urge not to be. This disgusting, hostile and unlovely world was not made for me, nor I for it.”
“Still, to be urged to write and to be urged to publish are two different things and nobody so far was urging her to do the latter.”
“I felt an urge to conquer this new village.”
“I never felt the urge to jump off a bridge, but there are times I have wanted to jump out of my life, out of my skin.”
“The urge to cut still pulled at me. Would I always have this urge? I wondered. Would I be like an alcoholic constantly fighting the desire to drink?”
“You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you’re attracted to guys?” I shake my head. “Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.” He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”