Quotes About Intensity

Once in a while I experience an emotion onstage that is so gut-wrenching, so heart-stopping, that I could weep with gratitude and joy. The feeling catches and magnifies so rapidly that it threatens to engulf me.

Love, real love, the kind that you fall in, isn't like Corinthians. The "suffereth long" and "is kind" nonsense. It's like the Song of Solomon. It's jealousy and fire and floods. It's everything that consumes.

He'd meant to take her apart with a kiss. How, then, did he wind up in pieces?

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

I love my husband like a pig loves shit.

You know not, yet, the sort of love that strikes like a lightning bolt; that clutches hold of you by the heart, as irrevocably as death; that becomes the lodestar by which you steer the rest of your life. I would not wish such a love on anyone, man or woman, for it can make your life a paradise, or it can destroy you utterly.

Ma couce... mon incomparable! T'aimer? Mais je t'ai adorée toute ma vie et je ne cesserai jamais de t'aimer? Jamais! Tant qu'il me restera une pensée, un souffle, je t'aimerais...

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. (...) You don't pick out the rain that soaks you to the skin when you come out of a concert.

Cómo si se pudiera elegir en el amor. Cómo si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estaqueado en la mitad del patio... Vos no elegís la lluvia que te va a calar hasta los huesos cuando salís de un concierto

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard.

No me des tregua, no me perdones nunca. Hostígame en la sangre, que cada cosa cruel sea tú que vuelves. ¡No me dejes dormir, no me des paz! Entonces ganaré mi reino, naceré lentamente. No me pierdas como una música fácil, no seas caricia ni guante; tálame como un sílex, desespérame.

Como si se pudiese elegir en el amor, como si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estaqueado en la mitad del patio.

Y si nos mordemos el dolor es dulce, y si nos ahogamos en un breve y terrible absorber simultáneo del aliento, esa instantánea muerte es bella.

y la Maga vio su cara contra la suya, los ojos que la miraban brillando entre las lágrimas. Se besaron al revés, ella hacia arriba y él con el pelo colgando como un fleco, se besaron mordiéndose un poco porque sus bocas no se reconocían, estaban besando bocas diferentes, buscándose con las manos en un enredo infernal de pelo colgando y el mate que se había volcado al borde de la mesa y chorreaba en la falda de la Maga.

I'm getting close to ubiquity, and going crazy is just one step away

después la llamarada de la trompeta, el falo amarillo rompiendo el aire y gozando con avances y retrocesos y hacia el final tres notas ascendentes, hipnóticamente de oro puro, una perfecta pausa donde todo el swing del mundo palpitaba en un instante intolerable, y entonces la eyaculación de un sobreagudo resbalando y cayendo como un cohete en la noche sexual

viene a ser ese momento en que algo logra su máxima profundidad, su máximo alcance, su máximo sentido, y deja por completo de ser interesante.

Let us try to invent new passions or to reproduce the old ones with a like intensity. [ chapter 81 ] I think about forgotten gestures, the multiple signals and words of grandparents, lost little by little, not inherited, fallen one after the other off the tree of time.

Como si se pudiese elegir en el amor, como si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estanqueado en la mitad del patio.

I try to use words, whether in prose or poetry, that people can understand, that make them feel in an intense way. I'm a writer, that's what I do.

You hear mothers say all the time that they would die for their children, but my mom never said shit like that. She didn't have to. When it came to my brother, it was written across her face in 112-point Tupac Gothic.

She's dark and heavy-browed and has a mouth like unswept glass—when you least expect it she cuts you.

That was Demarest for you. Never a dull fucking moment.

What he used to feel for those girls he'd never really known was nothing compared to the amor he was carrying in his heart for Ana. It had the density of a dwarf-motherfucking-star and at times he was a hundred percent sure it would drive him mad. The only thing that came close was how he felt about books; only the combined love he had for everything he'd read and everything he hoped to write came even close.