Quotes About Passion

It was my 16th birthday - my mom and dad gave me my Goya classical guitar that day. I sat down, wrote this song, and I just knew that that was the only thing I could ever really do - write songs and sing them to people.

The day before my 16th birthday I got my guitar.

When you're rich and famous you are the dominant force in a relationship, even if you try hard not to be. I've talked of sacrificing everything for Fleetwood Mac, but I realize now that it is simply the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

I'll have your heart, if not by gift my knife Shall carve it out. I'll have your heart, your life.

But oh how sure I am that it is so much better to have love with all its pains and terrors and fanaticism than to live untouched the life of the vegetable. But how it tears one, and how unruhig it is.

Here is my music. It is all I have to tell you how I feel. Know that your love keeps my love strong.

You will never feel proud of your work if you find no joy within it; your best work is always joyful work.

What she had realised was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst.

Ja vill inte vara ditt barn. (Bengt) - Vad vill du vara då? (Gun) - Din älskare. (Bengt)

Kärlek är någonting som man inte kan rå för.

I'm not much of a family man. I'm just not that into it. I love kids, I adore them, but I don't want to live my life for them.

There's no religion but sex and music.

My heart was fluttering madly as if I was in the presence of a new lover, of whom I was uncertain.

She had the appearance of a woman who'd just come from a lover's embrace herself.

He seemed to me a fascinating mass of contradictions. His calm nature spoke to me of an inner strength, yet at times he was vulnerable and afraid. He learned to fight, and then I saw in him a mindless savagery that seemed at odds with his innate nobility. I love, he was passionate and demanding, while also possessing the capacity for an isolating coldness.

My interest in her had always been out of the ordinary; something which transcended desire and gratification; a feeling I hoped was reciprocated.

Madness there, little other than I had expected, and grief and love, but mainly madness.

He looked sleepy, sensual, dragged from a bed of lust, no doubt.

Longing and anger too up arms with her again, as usual.

Sensuality oozed from her straining limbs.

I have experienced perfect love, but felt driven to destroy it. Strange. Just didn't feel right. Felt too good, I suppose. Perhaps I destroyed it before it destroyed me.

She succumbed to the disease of love, reliquished her flesh to its fevering infection, opened her mind to its gnawing absesses and sores.

My sore words are inspired by desperate need.

He suppressed any thought of Ishtahar and tried to concentrate on the lithe, young body against him.