Quotes About Passion

If you were a writer, you could be impressive in a cerebral sort of way, but if you were a musician, you got to be viscerally magical.

To be with him in this way was an almost intolerable ecstasy.

his blue eyes were intense, and

art is made by the alone for the alone… The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication...

We must select the illusion which appeals to our temperament, and embrace it with passion.

A mutually fulfilled sexual union between two people is the rarest sensation which life can provide. But it is not quite real. It stops when the telephone rings. Such a passion can be kept at its early strength only by adding to it either more and more unhappiness (jealousy, separation, doubt, renunciation), or more and more artificiality (drink, technique, stage-illusions). Whoever has missed this has never lived, who lives for it alone is but partly alive.

Is it possible to love any human being without being torn limb from limb?

The voice of passion is better than the voice of reason. The passionless cannot change history.

I have defined poetry as a 'passionate pursuit of the Real.

How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene and dead ideas become obsessions.

The only rule is, do what you really, impulsively, wish to do. But always act on your own responsibility, sincerely. And have the courage of your own strong emotion.

Can you never like things without clutching them as if you wanted to pull the heart out of them? Why don't you have a bit more restraint, or reserve, or something? She looked up at him full of pain, then continued slowly to stroke her lips against a ruffled flower. Their scent, as she smelled it, was so much kinder than he; it almost made her cry.

I believe in being warm-hearted. I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love, in fucking with a warm heart. I believe if men could fuck with warm hearts, and the women take it warm-heartedly, everything would come all right. It's all this cold-hearted fucking that is death and idiocy.

She went to the fence and sat there, watching the gold clouds fall to pieces, and go in immense, rose-coloured ruin towards the darkness. Gold flamed to scarlet, like pain in its intense brightness. Then the scarlet sank to rose, and rose to crimson, and quickly the passion went out of the sky. All the world was dark grey. Paul scrambled quickly down with his basket, tearing his shirt-sleeve as he did so.

But the passion of gratitude with which he received her into his soul, the extreme, unthinkable gladness of knowing himself living and fit to unite with her, he, who was so nearly dead, who was so near to being gone with the rest of his race down the slope of mechanical death, could never be understood by her.

Yes, this was love, this ridiculous bouncing of the buttocks, and the wilting of the poor, insignificant, moist little penis.

Isn't love the most horrible thing! I think it's just horrible. it just does one in, and turns one into a sort of howling animal.

So, after three days of incessant brandy-drinking, he had burned out the youth from his blood, he had achieved this kindled state of oneness with all the world, which is the end of youth's most passionate desire.

he was beginning to be himself. And now he wanted madly to be free to go on. A home, his work, and absolute freedom to move and to be, in her, with her, this was his passionate desire. He thought in a kind of ecstasy, living an hour of painful intensity.

This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us.

It's terrible, once you've got a man into your blood! she said.

You live by what you thrill to, and there's the end of it.

And in this passion for understanding her soul lay close to his; she had him all to herself. But he must be made abstract first.

Yes, I do believe in something. I believe in being warm-hearted. I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love, in fucking with a warm heart. I believe if men could fuck with warm hearts, and the women take it warm-heartedly, everything would come all right. It's all this cold-hearted fucking that is death and idiocy.