Quotes About Passion

The thing is, baby, you don't have long,' he said. 'We don't have long. Dancers are like dragonflies – in one day, dead in the water the next. So you just have to work, all the time, because if you don't love it, and if you don't want to do it so much that it's like breathing to you, then you might as well stop now.

An activist is someone who cannot help but fight for something. That person is not usually motivated by a need for power or money or fame, but in fact is driven slightly mad by some injustice, some cruelty, some unfairness, so much so that he or she is compelled by some internal moral engine to act to make it better.

He was the kind of man who lit the world on fire and then fanned the flames so it burned hotter.

It was hard to love something so much and want it to disappear at the same time

I was just so interested in what I was doing I could hardly wait to get up in the morning and get at it. One of my friends, a geneticist, said I was a child, because only children can't wait to get up in the morning to get at what they want to do. - Dr. Barbara McClintock

He did not fail in love, but he lost the joy of it [...]

Old boy, said Grimes, you're in love. Nonsense! Smitten? said Grimes. No, no. The tender passion? No. Cupid's jolly little darts? No. Spring fancies, love's young dream? Nonsense! Not even a quickening of the pulse? No. A sweet despair? Certainly not. A trembling hope? No. A frisson ? a Je ne sais quoi ? Nothing of the sort. Liar! said Grimes.

I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a reminder that the world was an older and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his. By chance I met this same wine again, lunching with my wine merchant in St James's Street in the first Autumn of the war; it had softened and faded in the intervening years, but it still spoke in the pure, authentic accent of its prime, the same words of hope.

When people hate with all that energy, it is something in themselves they are hating.

chokey cholmondley: i sure am crazy about culture.

I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a reminder that the world was an older and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his.

I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a reminder that the world was an older and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his. By chance I met this same wine again, lunching with my wine merchant in St. James's Street, in the first autumn of the war; it had softened and faded in the intervening years, but it still spoke in the pure, authentic accent of its prime, the same words of hope. "I

Quando la gente odia con tanta foga, vuol dire che odia qualcosa che ha dentro di sé.

Fazer filmes é uma experiência fantástica, mas os pormenores técnicos são mortalmente enfadonhos. É uma chatice salpicada de momentos vibrantes.

Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one. If you have anything to say, anything you feel nobody has ever said before, you have got to feel it so desperately that you will find some way to say it that nobody has ever found before, so that the thing you have to say and the way of saying it blend as one matter - as indissolubly as if they were conceived together…. - The Crack-Up

I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn't be over-dreamed—that voice was a deathless song.

She did not plan; she merely let herself go, and the overwhelming life in her did the rest.

He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

Faces swirled about him, a kaleidoscope of girls, ugly, ugly as sin- too fat, too lean, yet floating upon this autumn air as upon their own warm passionate breaths poured out into the night. Here, for all their vulgarity, he thought, they were faintly and subtly mysterious.

Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget.

I love her and that is the beginning and end of everything.

There were so many places where one might deteriorate pleasantly: Port Said, Shanghai, parts of Turkestan, Constantinople, the South Seas - all lands of sad, haunting music and many odors, where lust could be a mode and expression of life, where the shades of night skies and sunsets would seem to reflect only moods of passion: the colors of lips and poppies.

He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her.

No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.