Quotes About Passion

I think with my blood.

I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.

Please, please be some sex-starved nutcase who wants to kidnap me and make me your love slave, I begged silently.

It was all I could do to not knock him down right there in front of Asher and climb on him. If I stunned him with a frying pan first, he might not struggle too much.…

What?" I wanted to climb him like a tree.

Empower yourself and realize the importance of contributing to the world by living your talent. Work on what you love. You are responsible for the talent that has been entrusted to you.

Menulis bukanlah tentang uang. Uang adalah peristiwa besar, kejadian hebat yang meskipun menyenangkan, tidak bertahan lama dalam hati.

She turned her face to touch her lips to his neck. "Make a memory with me, Hunter," she whispered huskily. "One more beautiful memory.

She turned her face to touch her lips to his neck. "Make a memory with me, Hunter," she whispered huskily. "One more beautiful memory." Cinching an arm around her waist, Hunter stretched out with her on the fur. Never before had she initiated lovemaking. His hand trembled as he skimmed his palm down her spine. Make a memory with me, Hunter. As he dipped his head to kiss her, he wondered why it was that those words had a ring of farewell. One more beautiful memory.

Hunter bent his head and pressed his face against her hair. The next instant she felt his lips on her neck. She also felt his hand on her posterior. Frustrated by her high neckline and her full skirts, he made a fist in the calico. "So much wannup. Where are you, Blue Eyes?

I would have you beside me," he told her huskily.

Knowing what he wanted, he went after it with single-minded intensity, until a hoarse moan ripped from her and she arched toward him, her body jerking with every pass of his tongue. His, at last.

In one liquid movement he rose on an elbow above her, his broad chest a canopy of bronze, his shoulders eclipsing the light so only her face was illuminated. "You have stolen my heart.

You have stolen my heart.

Do you bleed from within?" Her face flamed, and she bit her lip. Hunter would have traded every horse he owned at that moment to have a woman there.

You have stolen my heart from me, Blue Eyes.

Hunter stretched out beside her, head propped on one hand, his eyes never leaving her. She was acutely conscious of his gaze, and when it started to unnerve her, she finally turned to look at him. Banked embers of passion glowed in his eyes.

Hunter grew amused, watching Loretta. When she threw him an accusing glance, he noted that her pupils had flared until her irises were almost black. Crimson rode her cheeks, and a rosy flush colored her slender throat. He wondered if her entire body was pink and wish they were alone so he could find out. Soon. Tonight he would build a fire so she couldn't hide in shadows, and he would learn every inch of her, slowly.

Tonight he would build a fire so she couldn't hide in shadows, and he would learn every inch of her, slowly.

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary'. it's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can't attain.

Fling is feeling without the two e's.

I would have liked maybe to be in architecture or painting, something connected to the fine arts.

I'll never leave here. If I left here, I'd die. And I'll die before I leave here.

Everyone's scared. So scared they can't sleep sometimes. Or eat. Or keep their weight on." "Then why bother playing?" I asked. It was a whisper, this question. "Because. You love the game. You love the people you play with. You love winning, maybe. You love that one moment when you get it right . . . I dunno. Why do you play?" "Because," I whispered, "it's who I am." Sounds like a good reason to me.