Quotes About Passion

Kiss me with your eyes.

And the fascination I experienced was probably very close to a certain kind of love.

After being alive, the next hardest work is having sex.

Well, I think every day's a vacation for me. When you really, really like what you're working on, it's like always being on vacation.

All I can think is that I want her more than anything. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything, ever.

I like someone who is a little crazy but coming from a good place. I think scars are sexy because it means you made a mistake that led to a mess.

Love one person, take care of them until you die. You know, raise kids. Have a good life. Be a good friend. And try to be completely who you are. And figure out what you personally love. And like go after it with everything you've got no matter how much it takes.

My love, my passion, is boundless, for my mate." In

Art is the reason I get up in the morning, but the definition ends there. It doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define.

We have to be able to criticize what we love, say what we have to say. Cause if you're not trying to make something better then as far as I can tell you are just in the way.

Love is a colorless,volatile Liquid.Love ignites n burns.Love Leaves no residue neither smoke nor ash.Love is a poison masquerading as spirit of Wine

Could a literary life be referred to with the iambic pentameter of, say, harnessing wind power, transplanting hearts or saving the whales. Or did it necessitate the sombre and monotonous dirge of software, priority banking or turbine building.

El amor es un líquido incoloro, volátil. El amor se inflama y arde. El amor no deja residuos: ni humo ni ceniza. El amor es un veneno disfrazado de vino.

I wanted to read someone who rose above the romanticism of most women writers. I wanted robust prose; I wanted muscle and sinew, even if it was a love story.

Love beckons with a rare bouquet. Love demands you drink of it. And then love burns the tongue, the senses. Love blinds. Love maddens. Love separates reason from thought. Love kills. Love is methyl alcohol pretending to be ethyl alcohol.

Love and death have this in common: they consume you so that everything else ceases to matter

I was so drunk on my feelings for him that all I wanted to do was be with him. Please him. Show him in a thousand ways how much I loved him. Everything else was unimportant.

Olympia thinks often about desire - desire that stops the breath, that causes a preoccupied pause in the midst of uttering a sentence - and how it may upend a life and threaten to dissolve the soul.

It is time that determines the intensity of love.

The warmth of him always, even on the coldest of nights, as though his inner furnace burned extravagantly.

And though her husband will appear to come alive, she knows that it is lust - too quickly ignited and too quickly extinguished - that animates him.

You have to do what your heart dictates, Vivian says. Do you believe that? Not sure, actually. It's always annoyingly inconvenient, isn't it, the thing about the heart?

That wasn't love." "What was it, then?" "Just purely physical. Animal. Vulgar." "Love has a body, Laura. Eyes and lips, legs and sex. We humans can't help that.

I'm not beautiful either. But I've been loved. I know love and I can tell you, you don't have to be a beauty to feel passion. Sometimes it helps if you're not. I wonder if you know that already.