Quotes About Passion

I wish to experience the sort of love That compels the dipping of my burning face in softly piled snow.

Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. —

Then there are the words that the Song of Solomon provides a man. The enchanting words of courtship." She closed her eyes and, lips parted, began to chant. " How beautiful you are, my love, your eyes are doves.... Your lips are like a crimson thread, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate.... Your neck is like the tower of David.... Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, that feed among the lilies .

I'll come and make love to you at five o'clock. If I'm late start without me.

The reason for not getting married was that I just didn't have a partner to get married to. Climbing mountains was more attractive to me than marriage, or other fun things like that.

On the collective level, human passion, rightly directed, can change the world.

Blow after blow, some bloody, others a resounding shock to muscle and bone, he felt Robert's fervor until, at last, his misbegotten brother tired and all that remained was for Christian to put his weight and height and strength behind him—to move from sword play to sword lust that he might forever end Robert's treachery and depravity.

A twinkle lit his eyes. "And I'll tell you this, my bonny lass, I'm not of a mind to let you go either. Not without a good fight." She smiled at his brogue and at the mischievous gleam in his expression. "But if it's a fight you're wantin'"—he winked—"then you've come to the right man, my lady. Because I won't be lettin' you go without one.

Love is not the absence of logic but logic examined and recalculated heated and curved to fit inside the contours of the heart

My father told me once that the most important thing every man should know is what he would die for.

I read a lot. I always have, but in those two years I gorged myself on books with a voluptuous, almost erotic gluttony. I would go to the local library and take out as many as I could, and then lock myself in the bedsit and read solidly for a week. I went for old books, the older the better--Tolstoy, Poe, Jacobean tragedies, a dusty translation of Laclos--so that when I finally resurfaced, blinking and dazzled, it took me days to stop thinking in their cool, polished, crystalline rhythms.

I love beautiful; always have. I never saw why I should hate what I wish I had. Love it harder. Work your way closer. Clasp your hands around it tighter. Till you find a way to make it yours.

Think of the first time you slept with someone, or the first time you fell in love: that blinding explosion that left you crackling to the fingertips with electricity, initiated and transformed. I tell you that was nothing, nothing at all, beside the power of putting your lives, simply and daily, into each other's hands.

I'd never met...anyone who was worth giving up the more I wanted down the line.

My father once told me that the most important thing every man should know is what he would die for. If you don't know that, he said, what are you worth? Nothing. You're not a man at all.

I loved him, you know,' she said. 'I would have loved him as hard as he'd let me, for the rest of my life.

The band was no Led Zeppelin, but they had smart lyrics, a great drummer and that reckless shine that bands did have, back then, when no one had anything to lose and the fact that you didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of making it big didn't matter, because throwing your whole heart into this band was the only thing that stopped you being just another futureless dole bunny moping in his bedsit. It gave them something: a drop of magic.

This country's passion for property is built into the blood, a current as huge and primal as desire. Centuries of being turned out on the roadside at a landlord's whim, helpless, teach your bones that everything in life hangs on owning your home.

Nothing in this world takes over your blood like a murder case, nothing demands you, mind and body, with such a huge and blazing and irresistible voice.

It was beautiful. I love beautiful; always have. I never saw why I should hate what I wish I had. Love it harder. Work your way closer. Clasp your hands around it tighter. Till you find a way to make it yours.

I laid a hand on his cheek; it was so bright that for a second I thought it was burning me, a pure painless fire.

The truth is the most desirable woman in the world and we are the most jealous lovers, reflexively denying anyone else the slightest glimpse of her. We betray her routinely, spending hours and days stupor-deep in lies, and then turn back to her holding out the lover's ultimate Möbius strip: But I only did it because I love you so much.

It was the sheer blazing courage of it that hit me first: the passion of trust it would take, to put your future where your mouth was, no half measures, scoop up all your tomorrows and put them so deliberately, so simply, in the hands of the people you loved best.

Love is not at its fullest if one who lives is unwilling to die for it, or if it cannot restore to life one who has died.