Quotes About Intensity

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, I chanted

I've always found my wife a bit dazzling, in the purest sense of the word: to lose clear vision, especially from looking at bright light. It was enough to be near her and hear her talk, it didn't always matter what she was saying. It should have, but it didn't.

Her mind was both wide and deep, and I got smarter being with her. And more considerate, and more active, and more alive, and almost electric, because for Amy, love was like drugs or booze or porn: There was no plateau. Each exposure needed to be more intense than the last to achieve the same result.

We are one long frightening climax.

You fucking bitch you fucking bitch you fucking bitch. Come home so I can kill you.

I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love-jackal.

I'd wanted to die for years, but not lately and definitely not by those bitches.

too much, because it feels so good

I am a little too much, and he is a little too little. I am a thornbush, bristling from the overattention of my parents, and he is a man of a million little fatherly stab wounds, and my thorns fit perfectly into them.

My feelings for her were veering too quickly from bitter to sweet.

Para Amy, o amor era como drogas, álcool e pornografia: não havia limite. Cada exposiçao precisava ser mais intensa que a última para alcançar o mesmo resultado.

You just want an excuse to stay," she whispered. "You two, you're fucking addicted to each other. You are literally going to be a nuclear family, you do know that? You will explode.

I know I'm a hateful creature.

el amor era como las drogas o el alcohol o el porno: no había techo. Cada dosis debía ser más intensa que la anterior para obtener el mismo resultado.

But here's the thing I want to be clear on: I knew what I was doing, I was punching every button on him. I was watching him coil tighter and tighter—I wanted him to finally say something, do something. Even if it's bad, even if it's the worst, do something, Nick. Don't leave me here like a ghost.

Je suis un peu trop, et il n'est pas tout à fait assez. Je suis un buisson d'épines, hérissée par l'excès d'attention de mes parents, et il est transpercé d'un million de petits coups de poignards paternels. Mes épines logent parfaitement dans ses cicatrices.

I don't even want to ask," he said. "You two are the most fucked-up people I have ever met, and I specialize in fucked-up people.

Teeth chattering and my heartbeat thumping behind my eyeballs.

If anger were mileage, I'd be a very frequent flyer, right up there in First Class.

There is nothing so unreasonable and irrational and blind—and just plain silly-looking—as a man who works himself into an obsessive passion.

Dan showed it no mercy. He pushed the throttle as far as it would

Each affair began as though the creation of the world was to be reenacted, and each usually ended in less time than it took the Old Testament Creator to put up the sky. (62)

He had been frightened and so he had been vehement.

I wrote at the start that this was a record of hate,...