Quotes About Intense

They know how bad they are. They don't care. They do what they do because...because they love it.

I turned and it seemed the room was pulsing violently around me, all its color coalescing as though Monet's spirit had infected the very fabric of all solid matter and the air. All the objects of the room seemed arbitrary and symbolic. And beyond lay the savage night-Lestat's Savage Garden-and random unanswerable stars. As for Louis, he was captivated as only he can become, yielding as men almost never yield, no matter in what shape or form the male spirit may be clothed.

Il vampiro era perfettamente candido e levigato, come scolpito nell'avorio, e il suo viso appariva esanime come una statua, a eccezione di quegli occhi verdi, ardenti come fiamme in un teschio, che scrutavano intensamente il ragazzo. Ma poi il vampiro sorrise con un velo di malinconia e la liscia massa bianca del suo volto si mosse ridisegnandosi con i tratti infinitamente flessibili e essenziali di un cartone animato.

He stood watching me, growing ever more calm, but certainly enrapt.

The vampire was utterly white and smooth, as if he were sculpted from bleached bone, and his face was as seemingly inanimate as a statue, except for two brilliant green eyes that looked down at the boy intently like flames in a skull.

She had grown still and was staring at me yet, her eyes full of the fire of the torch, her lower lip trembling, and a sigh coming out of her as though she was about to cry again.

And of course she had no idea what the actual member itself looked like, apart from the sisters' surreptitious and intense study of the Elgin Marbles. If it were rather like a piece of liver in texture then it might do well with bacon. That was when she realized the appalling absurdity of what she was doing, coming up with a menu for raw . . . raw cock, that's what the stable lads had called it.

As far as I'm concerned, he's the biggest piece of shit I've ever met next to Ron. But at the same time, hearing him talk about his childhood is oddly compelling, like wanting to see a car wreck.

My heart is beating a punk rock song against my chest.

Our love will be loud, and it will be bright.

Being in love was vastly different from loving someone. When you were in love, it consumed you. Devoured you. And made you deliriously happy.

We're dreamers and - since we only have one life, and if we screw up we can get in a world of trouble - we're very intense dreamers.

I see history as really cyclical in terms of the intense idealism, and the desire to create a better life outside of societal norms.

I like having the two sports in my life. It is nice to have a change. They are both intense sports, but the balance I have is working for me at the moment and I find they compliment one another.

It is hard to imagine how the psyche could generate so intense a level of emotion without some kind of exposure to an extraordinary experience as the template for that emotion.

Ordinary dreams that contain UFO elements may be separated from dreams that recapitulate abductions in that they tend to be less vivid or intense, and the dreamer does not have the sense, as in the abduction-related dreams, that an actual experience is concealed behind the dream representations.

Although the frightful is, perhaps rightly, conjoined in our minds with the darkly coloured, the harshly dissonant - with bludgeon blows and the odours of decay - the most terrible experiences are often bereft of these properties of melodrama.

COSTS "Riveting

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it. —Michel de Montaigne John Ling. Fallen Angel (Kindle Locations 31-32). Kia Kaha Press.

Bill blinked tears from his eyes, then fastened his gaze on me. "Bitch," he snarled—why they never think of anything cleverer I'll never know.

His features were broad and solemn, his eyes stern except when bright. He seemed solid, wary, unassuming-a blocky muscular man whose coloring facilitated his tendency to fade into the shadows. But Vincent felt him glowering, his displeasure was like the weight of an angry hand.

The scent is hot wine, acidic and intense. Spicy, irresistible.

The sun rose on a landscape still pale with the heat of the day before. There was no haze, but a sort of coppery burnish out of the air lit on flowing fields, rocks, the face of the one house and the cliff of limestone overhanging the river. The river gorge cut deep through the uplands. This light at this hour, so unfamiliar, brought into being a new world – painted, expectant, empty, intense.

I love this time of day,' Josh says-talking to me, he's talking to me!-and I try to think of the right thing to say. 'I love you' sounds a little intense for the conversation. 'Can we make out?' sounds like something Jackson would say, and even if I am thinking it, I never want to sound like Jackson. Ever. 'Me too,' is what I come up with. Brilliant, right?