Quotes About Passion

You may be a virgin in body, but not in mind. I feel the heat and passion in you; there's a fury of it inside you. I felt it the moment I saw you. You're not normal. You'll never be normal. Give it up. Stop trying to fit in a world that will never accept you. Nobody can understand you the way I can. You're a Sidhe-seer. You want to spend you're whole life denying it? What you see. What you are. What you want. Sad way to live and die.

If you don't do things with all your might, you may end up being harmed by those things you try halfway.

He'd brought out the best and worst in me, the most of everything. And when you got to have someone like that, anything less was empty, pointless.

He had so many ambitions. She had but one. To love.

Because I knew the moment I saw you," he ground out savagely, her "I hate you" still ringing in his ears, "that in another life—a life where I didn't become a dark sorcerer—you were my wife. I cherished you. I adored you. I loved you until the end of time, Jessica MacKeltar. But I doona get to have that life. So I'll take you any fucking way I can get you. And I'll not apologize for one moment of it.

Kiss me as if you remember me. Inspire this wild god as once you did. Incite poetry and fire with your passion and perhaps I'll find a way.

Barrons gets my beast, thinks she's beautiful.

Él. Lélegzem. Akarom. ?t. Mindig. T?z a fagyosságomra. Jég a tüzemre.

I don't 'boink' anyone. I fuck

As he fills me I wonder if – in the same way that sex makes its own unique perfume – we don't really "make" love. As in create, manufacture, evoke an independent element in the air around us, and if enough of us did it really well, for real, not just for the hell of it, we could change the world.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

Sexual excitement alters the lines of her body, fuses it into new lines against mine. A woman's spine changes when she wants to fuck, a subtle, supple shifting at the base, a sharper curve at that hollow where back meets ass. Breasts tighten and lift, the slant of jaw changes as the mouth prepares and muscles draw tight. I have studied humans for a small eternity. Intent infuses their every movement. Road maps to their inner navigation, plastered all over their skin. Born to be slaves.

She loved him. She'd said it. Of course she'd shouted it at him, but a man could deal with that when the woman loved him more than the whole world was big. He laughed exultantly, turned sharply on his heel, and hurried off to catch her. And to tell her that, since he was bigger, he was fair certain he loved her more.

No man wants to sleep with a woman. He wants to fuck her. And nobody forces me to do shit.

You only know who you are in opposition to something, what you choose to fight for and against. The rest doesn't matter.

I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon. That would be me. And that made me even madder.

I don't like you either. But my dick is hard and you're wet—

Her hair is a hot mess around her face, just the way I like it—bed-head always makes me want to fuck. Then again, pretty much everything does.

I welcome her feral nature.

Quod not cogit amor? (Is there anything love couldn't make us do?)

Pretty, pink Barbie fucks hard and raw like an animal. Her head is thrown back, spine arched, she's oblivious to rules, to moral order, to all but inner imperatives. And I wonder: could she live like she fucks?

You can't amp up my sex drive. It's already over the top.

Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you'd follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.

Sky above, earth below, fire within.