Quotes About Intensity

The goshawk is staring at me in mortal terror, and I can feel the silences between both our heartbeats coincide. Her eyes are luminous, silver in the gloom. Her beak is open. She breathes hot hawk breath in my face. It smells of pepper and musk and burned stone. Her feathers are half-raised and her wings half-open, and her scaled yellow toes and curved black talons grip the glove tightly. It feels like I'm holding a flaming torch.

The tiny, hair-like feathers between her beak and eye – crines – are for catching blood so that it will dry, and flake, and fall away, and the frowning eyebrows that lend her face its hollow rapacious intensity are bony projections to protect her eyes when crashing into undergrowth after prey.

She breathes hot hawk breath in my face.

The whole thing was so intense, so full of hurt that when I look back at it I squint. I want it forgotten.

This was a little house, with a ceiling that kept getting higher and higher, a hot place with no windows. This was anger.

His eyes were very bright; they'd been like that since he'd begun talking about his subject. He looked like someone in love. Well, in love the way people were in old movies.

You tell me what it is when some sensation leaves you for the space of one heartbeat and returns at double strength.

She smiled with a scary energy, as if she had been told to at gunpoint.

Safiye looked as if she was formed of fire herself, particles of flame dancing the flesh of her arm into existence. That or she was returning to fire.

I think they must have recognized something in each other, some poorly concealed intensity that other people find nerve-racking.

I hate that my life is teaching me that I can only be loved if I put my love out of reach and just drift about people until they love my remoteness. I'm not just talking about romances but about friendships too. Whoa, Mia, you're too intense. I get a lot of that. So I know that I won't be loved the way I need to be.

T)hey talked as only Russians can. Not listening to each otehr, repeating the self-same argument over and over again, excelling in pantomime and reaching the uppermost heights of drama.

My motto: Why think rationally when you can add a little drama?)

But feelings don't shift unless they're accepted exactly the way they are, neither more nor less. If they're intense, they're intense! Once they're accepted, they'll change into another form. But until then, they'll stick around. Bonnie,

He fell back. He had cried out so loud that even if there had been no breach in the wall, I should have heard him in my room. He voiced his whole dream, he threw it out passionately. This sincerity, which was indifferent to everything, had a definite significance which bruised my heart. "Forgive me. Forgive me. It is almost a blasphemy. I could not help it." He stopped. You felt his will-power making his face calm, his soul compelling him to silence, but his eyes seem to mourn.

No hay más infierno que el furor de vivir.

I feel like a jug in which wine is poured until it overflows.

A thimbleful of red is redder than a bucketful.

I begin to write, almost without realizing it, without thinking, busy transmitting these words I don't recognize, although they are highly significant: "Too much! Too much! You're giving me too much!

A man without passion is only a latent force, only a possibility, like a stone waiting for the blow from the iron to give forth sparks.

j'ai aimé ma mère avec la rage d'en être haï.

You say that love is nonsense.... I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

The war was the only place where you could love men passionately.

If one is strong, one loves the more strongly.