Quotes About Intensity

I want a fever, in poetry: a fever, and tranquillity.

I have a very intense marriage.

We burned down rooms. We knew what everything meant. We understood terror and fury as no one else had. It hurt to be together and hurt more to be apart. Our mouths clashed. Our teeth scraped. Our arms ached from the meld. We knew each other's smells and heard each other's voices and told each other things that no one else ever had.

Why do we focus so intensely on our problems? What draws us to them? Why are they so attractive? They have the magnet power of love: somehow we desire our problems; we are in love with them much as we want to get rid of them . . . Problems sustain us -- maybe that's why they don't go away. What would a life be without them? Completely tranquilized and loveless . . . There is a secret love hiding in each problem

Mitch, have you ever tried fucking while stoking a furnace and running an engine?

Do your worst, Johnson. Fuck me if you want.

I may have entered that room a timid virgin, but by the time I left it I was a fully committed, cock-hungry slut. From my first taste of Mick's cock, with its mixture of sweat and piss and precum, I was hooked.

You ready to be fucked, Jack?

If your book doesn't keep you up nights when you are writing it, it won't keep anyone up nights reading it.

Novel writing is like heroin addiction; it takes everything you've got.

He hears men's voices, shouts, so evil and grim he hears their names: Tin Tin, Fun Boy, T-Bird, Top Dollar and Tom Tom. The sounds sink into his heart like ice and brun in his head with a heat so intense it glows white.

If it's worth doing, I guess it's worth overdoing.

In fact, one could argue that the skill of the fiction writer boils down to the ability to exploit intensity.

I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like molten lead

almost exquisite, the slight madness

She was breathing hard, and deep circles of red burned high on her bright cheeks; in all my life I had never seen anyone so maddeningly beautiful as she was at that moment.

He had never seen a gunshot wound. He kept asking what if felt like? dull or sharp? an ache or a burn? My head was spinning and naturally I could give him no kind of coherent answer but I remember thinking dimly that it was sort of like the first time I got drunk, or slept with a girl; not quite what one expected, really, but once it happened it couldn't be any other way. Neon lights: Motel 6, Dairy Queen. Colors so bright, they nearly broke my heart.

Exactly. And how did they drive people mad? They turned up the volume of the inner monologue, magnified qualities already present to great excess, made people so much themselves that they couldn't stand it.

Dear me, you are being truthful today," he said, with remarkable perspicuity. "Life has got awfully dramatic all of a sudden, hasn't it? Just like a fiction.…

The sky was a fierce, burning blue, the trees ferocious shades of red and yellow.

jeans jacket, catching him in a chokehold, pistol at

I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive

It seemed as though Theodore's passion for Alice far exceeded his genuine knowledge of her.

When Taft gives way to his (anger), one reporter observed, it is to inflict a merciless thrashing upon its victim, for whom thereafter he has no use whatsoever. With Roosevelt is a case of powder and spark; there is a vivid flash and a deafening roar, but when the smoke is blown away, it is the end.