Quotes About Passion

She nestled against him, already limp and relaxed. With a tremulous little sigh, she curled her fist against his chest. Aidan had to force himself to relax. He held himself very still, tempering the desire that churned and clamored in his chest, twisting and turning restlessly. He was still shocked by it, by its strength, its persistence, for it grew more rousing with every moment spent with her.

He wanted more. Much more. He wanted Miss Fionna Hawkes beneath him, around him, above him, her slim, naked limbs twined with his. He ached with the need to feel himself rooted deep and hard, all the way to her womb.

His eyes had grown dark and smoky. A silky undertone crept into his voice. Never tempted by any man, Fionna. Never tempted by any man... before me. Never tempted by desire. Untouched by any man... before me. Lightly he molded the shape of her breast in his palm, his thumb traced the outline of her nipple. Bending low, his lips pressed a tiny kiss at the corner of her mouth, his breath warming her cheek as he whispered, Are you tempted, sweet?

Her mouth dry, her gaze ventured inevitably down, past the curls on his chest and belly, clear to where his rod thrust high and hard against the white of one bare thigh. Her recall was instantaneous- as if she'd ever forgotten. As if she ever could! With stark, unremitting clarity, she remembered precisely how it had felt to touch him there, her knuckles buried in the coarse nest of curls that thickened and surrounded the base of his erection.

Naked, Aidan watched from the bed with smoldering eyes. He grinned. But come tame this monster first!

He kissed her again. And indeed they touched nowhere but their lips. Sensation exploded inside her. Everywhere. Yes, everywhere. It was as if he touched her all over. Her nipples, tingling as if he stroked them. Between her thighs, warm as if he stroked there. She would have blushed- but it felt so good. It felt too good. That it seemed almost forbidden was the last thought in her mind.

She opened her mouth, but his was already there. She knew what he was doing. Making her want... this. Making her want him. And she did. God help her, she did. On and on he kissed her, turning his mouth this way and that, his tongue twining with hers, long and deep. Then drawing back, his mouth almost flirting with hers.

Every man's work, whether it be literature or music or pictures or architecture or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.

To live is like to love--all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it

What work I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn't have done it. . . . The work that is really a man's own work is play and not work at all. . . . When we talk about the great workers of the world we really mean the great players of the world.

No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.

Those who attain to any excellence commonly spend life in some single pursuit, for excellence is not often gained upon easier terms.

Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.

Novel: A small tale, generally of love.

Unless a Woman has an Amorous Heart, She is a Dull Companion.

To ACCEND  (ACCE'ND)   v.a.[accendo, Lat.]To kindle, to set on fire; a word very rarely used. Our devotion, if sufficiently accended, would, as theirs, burn up innumerable books of this sort.Decay of Piety.

ANIMOSITY  (ANIMO'SITY)   n.s.[animositas, Lat.] Vehemence of hatred; passionate malignity. It implies rather the disposition to break out into outrages, than the outrage itself. They were sure to bring passion

I could produce innumerable instances from my own memory and observation, of events imputed to the profound skill and address of a minister, which, in reality, were either mere effects of negligence, weakness, humour, passion, or pride, or, at best, but the natural course of things left to themselves.Swift'sThoughts on the present Posture of Affairs.5. Manner

I found that the last line in my Concordance and the last line in my six long volumes is Johnson's quotation of Goldsmith's fine saying; 'I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing.

The cankered passion of envy is nothing akin to the silly envy of the ass.L'Estrange,Fab.xxxviii.

Parents never give allowances for an innocent passion.Swift.6. Established

It is justly considered as the greatest excellency of art, to imitate nature; but it is necessary to distinguish those parts of nature, which are most proper for imitation: greater care is still required in representing life, which is so often discoloured by passion, or deformed by wickedness. If the world be promiscuously described, I cannot see of what use it can be to read the account; or why it may not be as safe to turn the eye immediately upon mankind as upon a mirrour which shews all

Pride is undoubtedly the original of anger; but pride, like every other passion, if it once breaks loose from reason, counteracts its own purposes.

Some men there are love not a gaping pig;Some that are mad if they behold a cat;And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' th' nose,Cannot contain their urine, for affection.Shakesp.Merchant of Venice.2. Passion