Quotes About Passion

Which of the dead are most tenderly and passionately deplored? Those who love the survivors the least, I believe. The death of a child occasions a passion of grief and frantic tears, such as your end, brother reader, will never inspire. The death of an infant which scarce knew you, which a week's absence from you would have caused to forget you, will strike you down more than the loss of your closest friend, or your first-born son – a man grown like yourself, with children of his own.

the dark walks, so favourable to the interviews of young lovers

The books I would like to print are the books I love to read and keep.

All great art has madness, and quite a lot of bad art has it, too.

Their singing wasn't particularly good, but the feeling with which they sang was not bad at all.

Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

thus with a kiss I die

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?

Who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make love known?

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night; Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night...

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger: But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

in black ink my love may still shine bright.

You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.

William Shakespeare

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.