"It is unlikely that any portrait will ever do Desire justice, since to see her (or him) is to love him (or her),- passionately, painfully, to the exclusion of all else.
Desire smells almost subliminally of summer peaches, and casts two shadows; one black and sharp-edged, the other transluscent and forever wavering, like heat haze.
Desire smiles in brief flashes, like sunlight glinting from a knife-edge. And there is much else that is knife-like about Desire.
Never a possession, always the possessor, with skin as pale as smoke, and eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine; Desire is everything you have ever wanted. Whoever you are. Whatever you are.
The Sandman: Season of Mists