Quotes About Intensity

"Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the sense."

Love is a fire that feeds our life.

Maturing as a poet means maturing as the whole man, experiencing new emotions appropriate to one's age, and with the same intensity as the emotions of youth.

As the age of information demands the simultaneous use of all our faculties, we discover that we are most at leisure when we are most intensely involved.

It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage.

It's such a thrilling part about being in a relationship at a young age, and all your feelings are apocalyptic, all your emotions are so huge.

Mad people = People who stand alone and burn. I'm attracted to them because they give me permission to do the same.

Adrenaline is an amazing thing.

I attempt to channel my anger into the tip of my forefinger as I press the shutter.

Rage is to writers what water is to fish.

There is no passion so much transports the sincerity of judgment as doth anger

Anger is a transient hatred; or at least very like it.

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.

I enjoy my anger, it's the only hobby I have.

If anger proceeds from a great cause, it turns to fury; if from a small cause, it is peevishness; and so is always either terrible or ridiculous.

So much grief, so much anger. So unlike the usual Adrian.

I am a giant squid of anger.

I was so mad you could have boiled a pot of water on my head.

What I mean is that conservatives are in a constant state of hair-on-fire, yelling anger.

His was not the hatred that arises suddenly like a storm and as suddenly abates. It was, once the initial shock of anger and pain was over, a calculated thing that grew in a bloodless way.

If I look into the wings, I can see Mom standing like a statue, Medea or Lady Macbeth, one of those tragic horrors, her face zombified by the steely reflected light from my funeral pyre.

He is here. There is the sweet perfume of death in the air.' He drew a deep breath. 'I love it even more than the smell of fresh quimmy.

happiness cannot last, he thought. It is too intense.

the thought of you, my dears, mounts like blood to my head...