Quotes About Intensity

I'm like a machine being run over its RPM limit. The bearings are overheating: a minute longer and the metal will melt and start dripping and that will be the end of everything. I need a splash of cold water, logic; I pour it on in buckets but the logic hisses on the hot bearings and dissipates in the air as a fleeting white mist

Buzele ei erau ale mele, sorbeam, sorbeam, m? dezlipeam, priveam în t?cere ochii deschiÈ™i spre mine - È™i din nou...

Your heartbeat sounded ferocious when we saw that slide. Fiery, intense and deep…a melody of wrath.

The notion of a people chosen by God wasn't intended to bestow privilege but responsibility. Jewish history attests that this role carries more burden than glory. The classical way Jews understood their own history was as the story of a people failing to live in the intensity of God's presence. This is the story told by the Hebrew Bible -- a national epic astonishing in its relentless criticism of the people it is supposedly intended to celebrate.

I will tell you what this people need, with regard to preaching; you need, figuratively, to have it rain pitchforks, tines downwards, from this pulpit, Sunday after Sunday. Instead of the smooth, beautiful, sweet, still, silk-velvet-lipped preaching, you should have sermons like peals of thunder, and perhaps we then can get the scales from our eyes.

I like to, in the playoffs, I like to take a body of work in the last month. I just don't care what happened in September because I don't think it's really relevant.

Abruptly he thrust his snow-drenched leather gloves against my cheeks. I dodged. A raw carnal feeling blazed up within me, branding my cheeks. I felt myself staring at him with crystal clear eyes... From that time on I was in love with Omi.

He wanted to talk about the strange passion that catches hold of a man by the scruff of his neck and transports him to a realm beyond the fear of death.

Sá»± ph?n tr?c c?a nàng cÅ©ng gi?ng nhÆ° sá»± ph?n tr?c c?a các vì sao và nh?ng chòm tùng bách nh?n ho?t.

Tobožnja stidljivost i kreposnost oblici su sebi?nosti, tek obi?ni postupci samozaštite koji su potrebni upravo zbog žestine naših vlastitih želja.

Abbasso il muso dell'aereo e mi avvento sul bersaglio. Non posso mancarlo. Il coraggio è soltanto guardare guardare guardare. Senza chiudere gli occhi nemmeno per un istante.

Perfect purity is possible if you turn your life into a line of poetry written with a splash of blood.

Beauty is something that burns the hand when you touch it.

The instant that the blade tore open his flesh, the bright disk of the sun soared up and exploded behind his eyelids.

You have to seduce the reader, manipulate their mind and heart, listen to the music of language. I sometimes think of prose as music, in terms of its rhythms and dynamics, the way you compress and expand the attention of a reader over a sentence, the way the tempo pushes you towards an image or sensation. We want an intense experience, so that we can forget ourselves when we enter the world of the book. When you are reading, the physical object of the book should disappear from your hands.

Man ... heats up like a lightbulb: red hot in the twinkling of an eye and cold again in a flash. The female, on the other hand...heats up like an iron. Slowly, over a low heat, like tasty stew. But then, once she has heated up, there's no stopping her.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.

It is very melancholy without you. I love you more all the time and since I did not think there was any more it's an overwhelming and frightening state to be in.

isn't it funny how danger makes people passionate?

He would have his plans take effect with the speed of fire

Is anyone gonna invent a Richter scale to measure the magnitude of emotions in a young girl's heart?

When you're born prematurely, you want to live more quickly than other people. The good, the bad, everything!

The novel tends to tell us everything,' wrote V.S. Pritchett in his introduction to the Oxford Book of Short Stories, 'whereas the short story tells us only one thing, and that, intensely'.

His rage was a saw, going back and forth, cutting through arteries, hers.