Quotes About Passion

If you were a wheel I'd follow your highway. If you were a raindrop I wish you'd fall my way. If you were a gypsy I'd give a fortune to tell That whenever I'm with you I see HEAVEN, not hell…

I began to wonder if writers don't choose to love long-distance, a sure way of blending passion and prose. The love letter seems perfectly suited to the contradiction of a writer's life... the love letter may be the emblem of a vocation that demands solitude but desires communication.

Helen made you think like the world would end without your art.

apasionante historia que te atrapará desde

My mind's sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn't like you if you were the best of women,--or stop loving you, no matter what you do.

Id Faciam What I hate I love. Ask the crucified hand that holds the nail that now is driven into itself, why.

I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.

Vos quod milia multa basiorum Legistis, male me marem putatis? Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.

Vivamus atque amemus

I hate and I love. Wherefore do I so, peradventure thou askest. I know not, but I feel it to be thus and I suffer.

?d? et am?. Qu?r? id faciam fortasse requ?ris. Nesci?, sed fier? senti? et excrucior.

Da mi basia mille. (Give me a thousand kisses)

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior. I hate and I love. Why do I, you ask? I do not know, but I feel it happening and it hurts.

I hate & love. And if you should ask how I can do both, I couldn't say; but I feel it, and it shivers me.

let us forever serve this one master, so that a passion far grander and keener may burn in my soft marrow.

I hate her and i love her. don't ask me why. it's the way i feel, that's all, and it hurts.

I hate and i love well, why do i, you probably ask i don't know, but i know it's happening and it hurts.

I hate and love. you ask, "how can this be?" god knows what wretchedness what loathsome misery

I hate and love. why i do so, perhaps you ask. i know not but I feel it, and i am in torment.

XXXVII Qualunque ben si fa, naturalmente nasce d'Amor, come del fiore el frutto, ché Amor fa l'omo essere valente

L'animo riposato aver solìa, ed era nuovo che fosse dolore: e or me n'ha così fornito Amore!

Curiosity – if not desire, if not plain kindness – might have led him to greater zeal.

Further and further afield he travelled. Taking ship, he sailed to a hot and passionate country where gypsy women dressed in scarlet, and their dark skin sweated as they danced tarantellas under a tambourine moon.

Remember the first time you went to a show and saw your favorite band. You wore their shirt, and sang every word. You didn't know anything about scene politics, haircuts, or what was cool. All you knew was that this music made you feel different from anyone you shared a locker with. Someone finally understood you. This is what music is about.