Quotes About Passion

Love works. Lust plays.

My heart aches love for you.

no maths can entail love— lovers belong to infinity

ADULTERY. Democracy applied to love.

Music!—who loves it not? who has not felt his soul soothed and softened by its sweet influence?

Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.

I'd rather be stitchin' than in the kitchen!

I'm itchin' to be stitchin'!

Nursing is not for everyone. It takes a very strong, intelligent, and compassionate person to take on the ills of the world with passion and purpose and work to maintain the health and well-being of the planet. No wonder we're exhausted at the end of the day!

Passion, though a bad regulator, is a powerful spring.

Chase down your passion like it's the last bus of the night.

Passion is oxygen for the soul.

Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

One might as well try to photograph air as to say why one loves.

A true scrapbook addict is one who stages photographs to match paper she likes.

A poet is too impatient for prose. He needs an expressway to his emotions.

My thirst and passion from boyhood... has been for poetry — for poetry in its widest and wildest sense — for poetry untrammelled by the laws of sense, rhyme, or rhythm, soaring through the universe, and echoing the music of the spheres! From my youth, nay, from my very cradle, I have yearned for poetry, for beauty, for novelty, for romancement.

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.

A poet cannot stop writing poems — an ink-stained soul compels his obsession.

A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. The love of language is either itself a poetic gift or a symptom of it.

A poet is a flaming phoenix — burnt up with each and every poem.

Emily Dickinson's poetry is life — blood — spirit. Her passion fills all the poems, till they are like alabaster filled with flame.

I bleed words, Ink drops, and Poetry merges— Blackish-crimson Autobiography

Ink kisses dripping crimson words and with blood-red lips leaves prints on her finest poetry.