Quotes About Intensity

I know I sound plaintive. I sound desperate.

Green like nightshade green, stab-your-heart darkness to make you afraid.

just so abrupt and odd the way she went hungrily asking in the heart's thick accent

If the spirit of a place has anything to do with what a poet makes, then it must be the intensity of light (two f-stops brighter than New York) and the extreme geography that so infuse the mind in Provincetown and make one more reflective. With all that jazzed-up light, the excitement of photons bounding off water and sand, even the ordinary air says, Notice me. … the function of art is to wake us up to the very life we are living.

I'm a fan of daytime drama I totally get it. When we are doing scenes that are romantic or will get the audience riled up, I feel like I'm a fan in the room going, 'People are going to be so mad right now!'

Desire is endless and unappeasable, is most intense where most forbidden, and is never far from despair.

Fear was there, too, cold and hot at the same time, making everything in the plain room sharper, with fewer shadows.

My spine shoots up straight like I'd been plugged into an eight-volt, and the mere sight of him literally causes my breath to leave my body.

Good for him," Hale said. And then he stopped. There were four other people in the room, but Hale only looked at Kat, and something in his gaze burned her, froze her, made her want to run.

Porque jamás saldría indemne de aquella mirada, y jamás volvería a contemplar un fuego como el que alimentaba a aquellos ojos que ardían para herirme y para curarme a la vez.

y mi repentina belleza no era sino la huella más profunda de su mirada.

Era demasiado amor. Demasiado grande, demasiado complicado, demasiado confuso, y arriesgado, y fecundo, y doloroso. Tanto como yo podía dar, más del que me convenía. Por eso se rompió. No se agotó, no se acabó, no se murió, sólo se rompió, se vino abajo como una torre demasiado alta, como una apuesta demasiado alta, como una esperanza demasiado alta.

I can see why Passion and Purpose are so attracted to each other. She's fascinated by his energy and intensity, and he admires her sense of focus, how she can always find her way without making a fuss. She calms and steadies him, he makes her feel alive.

it's like your red blood is everywhere, not just in vessels.

Because that was some mega tense awkwardness, a real 'Hello my name is Ever and I'll be your next stalker' kind of moment...

if this Roman dude's as bad as you say, then why are you lurking outside his store looking all charged and heated like a dog waiting for its owner?

I swear he's just so freaking smoldering, you have to see him." She shakes her head, annoyed that I can't join in on the fun. "He's like combustible!

I lay sweating, shaking, doing my best to quell the overwhelming need--to extinguish the dark flame inside me. A flame that burns brighter, hotter, stronger each day. A fire so insatiable it'll consume everything in its path.

Love is a gift. Passion is a curse

Siempre nos dijo que había dos tipos de mujer. Aquellas que estaban iluminadas por fuera y aquellas iluminadas por dentro. Las primeras necesitaban el brillo de un diamante para hacerlas resplandecer, pero en el caso de las segundas su belleza reluce a causa de la intensa luz de sus almas.

For Pete's sake, Quinn, you should have seen him when I was pregnant. He practically set a peacock on fire for daring to walk across my path in the garden one day.

Ce fut affreusement fort, sept années d'émotions vécues en dix secondes.C'était donc cela, Rinri et moi :l'étreinte fraternelle du samouraï , tellement plus beau et plus beau qu'une bête histoire d'amour...

Eu nu vor¬beam de libertate sau de permisiune. Concepeam iubirea nebun? în aÅŸa fel încît, dac? aÅŸa ceva ar fi ajuns s? mi se întîmple vreodat?, nu mi-aÅŸ fi putut ima¬gina nici o secund? de desp?rÅ£ire. Ce poate înc?pea între fiinÅ£a iubit? ÅŸi tine mai mult decît lama unei s?bii?

Cuando la existencia se presenta tan desmesuradamente exultante, esto se llama Nueva York. (...) ciudad que desplaza el corazón del pecho a la sien sobre la cual apuntaba permanentemente el revólver del placer: «Exulta o muérete».