Quotes About Intensity

same attraction and the same vertigo of the absolute

I want my list of works to be lean and mean and everything was urgent and had to be done. Nothing to play the market. My family's had to suffer for that, that I haven't done commercial jobs just to bring home the bacon.

There's no half-singing in the shower, you're either a rock star or an opera diva.

Obsession beats talent and degrees every single time

Swift opened his eyes. "Your fingers are shaking." Max nodded. "Adrenaline. It's pretty exciting seeing your friend's car get shot full of holes. Especially with your friend sitting inside." Swift nodded too. "From my side too.

Every day is intense and alive, whether it's travel, work, even down time, which there is so little of.

It was love, though. Love, or some other, nameless feeling that was sister to it. I was racked with it. It thundered through me, shook my frame... This, I thought. This is how supervillains start.

Since the very first moment she had laid eyes on him, Lorna Connaught had loved Dante with a hot fierceness that both excited and shamed her. The excitement came from the knowledge that, from then until the day she died, he would always be hers. Her shame came from the realization that she'd never felt such an achingly deep love like that before. Not even for her husband, Matthew.

I wanted her under me, helpless to do anything but endure as I possessed her in every possible way. I wanted her moans, her screams, the sweet contractions of her cunt as it convulsed at the nexus of pain and pleasure so intense as to shatter her. I wanted to lick her tears from the curve of her cheek, hold her as she shook from the force of what I made her feel and then, when she had calmed a little, begin all over again.

Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke.

Mr. and Mrs. Muirhead fought continuously and as bitterly as vipers. Their arguments were baroque, stately and, although frequently extraordinary, never enlightening.

She wanted to be extraordinary, to possess a savage glitter.

She was in love with love. She couldn't do anything part way. She felt everything so deeply it was like the world was too much for her. Anytime she'd hear a story about some kid who had cancer or an old man who's wife died or dog even it was like it happened to her. Like she was missing the outer layer of skin that allowed people to get through the day without bleeding all the time. The world got to be too much for her.

His badness thrilled and amazed me.

Lo que lo jode todo siempre. El amor verdadero.

Su amor por Antonia es inmenso, precisamente porque no es sencillo. Porque es esforzado, porque es noble, pero satisfactorio. Porque ella se entrega, como él, sin traicionar. Por eso la quiere con locura.

un día seco y duro y caluroso, un día de tanta luz que los cielos parecían blancos y no azules—

with all the bad news expunged? Mallarino had never been able to understand that: for him it was the indignation or rage or hatred that kept him alive. How could anyone renounce the intense feeling of superiority one feels when hating someone? It was the emotion that made mornings make sense.

Que quede bien claro: el alma, como le dicen, es, pareciera, no cristalina sino pantanosa. Los motivos que la inducen, en esta cuadra, a dejarse llevar, como los llaman, al juego y a la exaltación, en la siguiente, con la misma arbitrariedad, y en forma no menos imprevisible, la sumen, para usar una vez más la expresión, en una intensa melancolía. En todo caso pareciera, ¿no?

I am all or nothing

Everything seems excessive, now, and too intense, too important.

We each are artists of the self, creating a collage -- a new and original work of art -- out of scraps and fragments of identifications. The people with whom we identify are, positively or negatively, always important to us. Our feelings toward them are, in some way, always intense.

sing till i burst my breast with such passion. sing, then fall dead to lay at your feet

And so I wrote. With slavering gusts of animal rage, I wrote- howling like a wolf, bellowing like a patchwork creature composed of stinking corpse parts, my monster face distorted with fury, my skin straining against the crude black stitches that affixed it to the pulsing musculature beneath. I was alive! Every nerve within me sparked with rage