Quotes About Passion

But I will have it. I will love — it is my birthright. I will love the man I marry — that is all I care about.

Quite frantically, he longed not to be.

In sleep, you dream, in drink you curse, and in travel you yell at a porter. No, work and love are the two. When you're not at work you should be in love.' 'Be

Life is beautiful, so long as it is consuming you. When it is rushing through you, destroying you, life is glorious. It is best to roar away, like a fire with a great draught, white-hot to the last bit. It's when you burn a slow fire and save fuel that life's not worth having.

Yet there she stood under the self-accusation of wanting him, tied to that stake of torture.

One wonders what the proper high-brow Romans ... read into the strange utterances of Lucretius or Apuleius or Tertullian, Augustine or Athanasius. The uncanny voice of Iberian Spain, the weirdness of old Carthage, the passion of Libya and North Africa.

The salt, bitter passion of the sea, its indifference to the earth, its swinging, definite motion, its strength, its attack, and its salt burning, seemed to provoke her to a pitch of madness, tantalizing her with vast suggestions of fulfilment.

The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only fortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs.

Then her eyes blazed naken in a kind of ecstasy, that frightened him.

Don't talk any more, she pleaded softly, laying her hand on his forehead. He lay quite still, almost unable to move. His body was somewhere discarded. Why not - are you tired? Yes, and it wears you out. He laughed shortly, realising. Yet you always make me like it, he said.

beat the band.

We fucked a flame into being. Even the flowers are fucked into being between the sun and the earth.

That's the recoil of the same urge. The anarchist, the criminal, the murderer, he is only the extreme lover acting on the recoil. But it is love: only in recoil. It flies back, the love-urge, and becomes a horror.

Well, if one had to prostitute oneself, let it be to a bitch-goddess!

The refinements of passion, the extravagances of sensuality! And necessary, forever necessary, to burn out false shames and smelt out the heaviest ore of the body into purity. With the fire of sheer sensuality.

Her dark eyes were naked with their love, afraid, and yearning. His eyes too were dark, and they hurt her. They seemed to master her.

Be as promiscuous as the rabbits!' said Hammond. 'Why not? What's wrong with rabbits? Are they any worse than a neurotic, revolutionary humanity, full of nervous hate?

The masters! In a dispute between masters and men, she was always for the men. But when there was no question of contest, she was pining to be superior, to be one of the upper class. The upper classes fascinated her, appealing to her peculiar English passion for superiority.

After all,' he said in a declamatory voice, `one gets all one wants out of Racine. Emotions that are ordered and given shape are more important than disorderly emotions. She watched him with wide, vague, veiled eyes. `Yes, I'm sure they are,' she said.

He's got _go_, anyhow.' Certainly, he's got go,' said Gudrun. 'In fact I've never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it?

Dismissed, he wanted to kiss her, but he dared not. She half wanted him to kiss her, but could not bring herself to give any signs.

There is love, and it is a deep thing, but there are deeper things than love. — D.H. Lawrence

Then there's the sort that puts you out before you really "come," and go on writhing their loins till they bring themselves off against your thighs. But they're mostly the Lesbian sort. It's astonishing how Lesbian women are, consciously or unconsciously. Seems to me they're nearly all Lesbian.

You, you might marry, a man who would not pour himself out like fire before you.