Quotes About Passion

The deepest and most sublime hatred is a hatred which creates ideals and transforms values—something whose like has never been seen on earth

All great artists and thinkers are great workers.

All too violently my heart still flows toward you—my heart, upon which my summer burns, short, hot, melancholy, overblissful; how my summer heart craves your coolness.

I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are a bourbon biscuit.

There have been two great accidents in my life. One was the train the other was Diego. Diego was by far the worst.

I love you more than my own skin.

Jetzt komme, Feuer!

Who the deepest has thought loves what is most alive.

Wie unvermögend ist doch der gutwilligste Fleiß der Menschen gegen die Allmacht der ungeteilten Begeisterung!

rien de grand dans le monde ne s'est accomplis sans passion

One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.

Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.

Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?

True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.

For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication.

One loves ultimately one's desires, not the thing desired.

The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over Christianity.

Man muss noch Chaos in sich haben, um einen tanzenden Stern gebären zu können. (You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.)

You know these things as thoughts, but your thoughts are not your experiences, they are an echo and after-effect of your experiences: as when your room trembles when a carriage goes past. I however am sitting in the carriage, and often I am the carriage itself. Ina man who thinks like this, the dichotomy between thinking and feeling, intellect and passion, has really disappeared. He feels his thoughts. He can fall in love with an idea. An idea can make him ill.

Of all that is written I love only what a man has written in his own blood.

And so, onwards... along a path of wisdom, with a hearty tread, a hearty confidence.. however you may be, be your own source of experience. Throw off your discontent about your nature. Forgive yourself your own self. You have it in your power to merge everything you have lived through- false starts, errors, delusions, passions, your loves and your hopes- into your goal, with nothing left over.

Sensuality often hastens the Growth of Love so much that the roots remain weak and are easily torn up.

Because we have for millenia made moral, aesthetic, religious demands on the world, looked upon it with blind desire, passion or fear, and abandoned ourselves to the bad habits of illogical thinking, this world has gradually become so marvelously variegated, frightful, meaningful, soulful, it has acquired color - but we have been the colorists: it is the human intellect that has made appearances appear and transported its erroneous basic conceptions into things.