She by her nature is cruel, so vicious she never can sate her voracious will, but, feasting well, is hungrier than before.

It makes utter sense to stay healthy and strong, to be as nourishing to the body as possible. Yet I would have to agree, there is in many women a 'hungry' one inside. But rather than hungry to be a certain size, shape, or height, rather than hungry to fit the stereotype; women are hungry for basic regard from the culture surrounding them. The 'hungry' one inside is longing to be treated respectfully, to be accepted and in the very least, to be met without stereotyping.

And then there are the cravings.. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows.
She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.

Maybe sadness was a kind of hunger, she thought. Maybe the two went together.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

This beast, at which thou criest out,
Suffers not any one to pass her way
But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so malign and ruthless
That never doth she glut her greedy will,
And after food is hungrier than before.

I think that a fierce woman's better, a woman
That breaks away when you have thought her won,
For I'd be fed and hungry at one time.

She had appetites in plenty: she spent all her strength in repressing them and she underwent this denial in anger.

Do you always get so hungry when you make love?”
“When you love somebody.

She was feeling her bohemian oats.

She worked in order to live, and presently fell in love, also in order to live, for the heart, too, has its hunger.

Nothing,” she said, “upsets me more than being hungry; I snarl and snap and burst into tears.

She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.

She makes my heart melt. There is a limited supply of sips, so grab a straw and start slurping while you can.