Quotes About Passion

Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future's sakes.

Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point.

I hate it! Charles Wallace cried passionately. I hate the Dark Thing!

A love which depends solely on romance, on the combustion of two attracting chemistries, tends to fizzle out. The famous lovers usually end up dead. A long-term marriage has to move beyond chemistry to compatibility, to friendship, to companionship. It is certainly not that passion disappears, but that it is conjoined with other ways of love.

Le cæur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. French. Pascal. The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing.

You feel things too deeply to bear them unless you can get them out of yourself through some sort of art.

You feel things too deeply to bear them unless you can get them out of yourself through some form of art.

How can we be able to live our lives if we deny the one who we truly love?

Whether you are five years old and irresistibly drawn to the piano in your home, or you are an adult who suddenly falls in love with music and decides to take lessons, the knowledge that you belong in the world of music is deep and indestructible. It is part of your basic nature, as much as the color of your eyes or the sound of your voice. Even your choice of instrument might feel choiceless; you hear a piano or a cello and somehow know that that is the instrument you must play.

Many waters cannot quench the thirst for love,nor can the floods drown it.

The rage she felt was a real thing, you could almost take it out of her and see it, like a red mist.

Ä°nsanlar kendi uÄŸraÅŸlar?n? kendileri seçmeli, kendi y?ld?zlar?n?n peÅŸinden gitmeli.

What part of the human mind or body was so inefficient that it could make you think you loved someone so wildly unsuitable?

Herkes gerçekten istediÄŸi ÅŸeyin peÅŸinden gidebilecek kadar cesur olsa, dünya bambaÅŸka bir yer olurdu...

if your heart is elsewhere, would you not want to follow your destiny?

Pleasing a woman, hearing the sultry words spill from her lips as he pushed her over the edge, that's what got him off.

Love books, love life

Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color.

I love you, Louise Downe McCord. You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes, and this is one of those times, but I love you.

It seemed that a woman should remember the night a new life began inside her. Such a miracle should not be the result of routine or an ordinary coming together. Life should begin in a cataclysm of heat and fury bathed in the sweat of passion and urgency.

Golden shadows shimmered and the musky scent of the candles dizzied every breath. They were on the bed now, an enormous bed with sheets of glowing satin. Clasped in an embrace they rolled together, drinking deep kisses from gasping mouths, hands stroking, teasing, chasing, bodies pressing against each other as if seeking to melt and become one with the other.

His mouth came down on hers hard and hot and deliberate. His kiss was so unexpected that Freddy went limp in his arms with shock. She didn't fight or protest, couldn't move or breathe. No one had ever kissed her like this, selfishly, unemotionally, taking with no thought of giving. This kiss was hungry, domineering, something that seared and scorched physically and left her mind reeling.

He kissed her then, not gently, not tenderly. He didn't kiss her to comfort her. He took her mouth hungrily, almost savagely, wanting to punish her for having a body that tormented him, for telling him that his last kiss had meant nothing, needed to punish her for letting scum like Jack Caldwell call her honey, and for ever thinking about a man who wasn't him.

Isn't that the only way to curate a life? To live among things that make you gasp with delight?