Quotes About Passion

The White Mansion isn't boring, lass. Never boring. It's the grand demesne the Unseelie King built for his concubine. It's a living, breathing love story, testament to the brightest passion that ever burned between our races. You can follow the scenes through if you've time enough and are willing to risk getting lost for a few centuries.

Karen Marie Moning

I want to drop to all fours and bay like a wild thing drunk on being hungry and strong, a beast that could fuck for days without cease if I could only find someone that could take it as hard and long a I can give it.

As his other hand began to slip around her waist, his body brushed against hers, and there was no mistaking the thick, hard ridge grazing her jean-clad bottom. Heavens, did that thing never subside? The rest of him might be mortal, but his immortal erection certainly didn't scan to have gotten the memo.

Is there anything love couldn't make us do? --MARTIAL, C.E. C.40-104

The man kisses me and I just hop right on him like he's the hottest new ride at Disneyland.

He is raw sex in a bottle, uncorked. And somebody needs to cork it!

Each time I say, Thank you, I'm telling him he's my sun, moon, and stars. And each time Barrons replies, Always. Mac, I know what it means. His "always" is a pledge of love, a promise eternal, and a guarantee that while we may never live happily ever after for very long, we will live. Together. Vibrantly and passionately. Fire to his ice. Ice to my fever.

And I will get to climb on that big beautiful bike of yours and wrap my arms around you and lean into all that gorgeous hair and smell you, and hear you laugh and see your eyes flash fire. Or I may as well just kick it right now because you, Dani Mega O'Malley, make me feel alive like nothing else does.

Hunger for me, ka-lyrra, he thought silently, get addicted to me. I will be both venom and antidote, your poison and your only cure.

I tasted your blood. I know your fucking soul.

Death will come, grief will rain down again and again, and the only way to survive it and remain an alive, passionate being is to pay the price of pain every time, or you will become as barbarous and icy as the Fae. It's always going to hurt. But as long as you're still capable of suffering you're still capable of joy. Better the depths of hell and heights of heaven than the horror of feeling nothing.

Barrons fucks you up. Ryodan makes you fuck yourself up.

I realized I would rather have a single night with you, even if it meant I was doomed to be bound to you, aching for you forever than not know such love.

One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can't breathe around it and you realize you don't need air.

Her brain has more muscles than her body, and less sense. Her passion for life pushes her limbs further than they were meant to go. She's going to burn herself to ash if she doesn't find someone or something that takes her all the way down to ground zero and recharges her.

He was furious with me. I didn't care. He was back. He was alive. My heart did a flip- flop. I thrilled to his presence. I would anywhere, anytime, under any circumstances. No matter what he was, what he'd done.

Emotion apparently made fools of even geniuses.

He would be, she now knew, a whole lot dominant in bed and a little bit dirty. -Gabrielle about Adam

Don't confuse intensity of emotion with quality of emotion

Master to slave: when he says "Fuck me," my body softens and I get wet. It's visceral. Inescapable. I love the way he says "Fuck me," as if his body will explode if I don't touch him, slam down on him and take him inside me, meld our flesh together in that place we both find the only peace we ever know. Out of bed, we're a storm. In bed, we find the eye.

Och, Christ, woman," he hissed. Devouring the space between them in two strides, he cupped her jaw with one big hand, tipped her face up, and claimed her mouth in a kiss. Once, twice, three times. Then he drew back and glared down at her. "I thought you were dead. I couldn't fucking get out of there and I thought of a thousand things I'd done wrong and imagined a million deaths for you. Kiss me, Jessica. Show me you're alive.

Wrong on that score. And efficiency is no guarantee of survival. Nor is intellect. What it takes to be the last one standing is an unquenchable hunger to live. He who wants it the most wins. It takes fire, willingness to burn down to your motherfucking core.

I would have bargained with the devil for you, too, lass," he said softly. "I'd have done anything too. I love you, Jessica. You are my one true mate, lass. Never forget that.