Quotes About Passion

Con todo, no podía reprimir los vívidos recuerdos de aquella pasión, su cuerpo se ponía tenso y comenzaba a temblar. Por fin la tensión se aflojaba y una deliciosa sensación de plenitud recorría sus miembros. Su amor del pasado había vuelto a la vida.

Nothing is so strange when one is in love.

Supongo que en una mujer hasta el odio es una forma del amor.

Si può cadere vivi nell'inferno per non precipitarvi chi si ama.»

fortuna y el amor mueren cuando se hacen rutina.

Use your blood to paint. Keep painting until you faint. Keep painting until you die.

Art is my life and my life is art.

A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both. —L. P. Jacks

Patagonia's image is a human voice. It expresses the joy of people who love the world, who are passionate about their beliefs, and who want to influence the future. It is not processed; it won't compromise its humanity. This means that it will offend, and it will inspire.

The object of the passion is just an accessory to the passion itself.

Not everyone wants this conventional little life you're rowing your boat toward. I like my river of fire. And when it's time for me to go I fully intend to roll off my one-person dinghy into the flames and be consumed. I'm not afraid.

Clara was a teenage girl like any other; the object of her passion was only an accessory to the passion itself, a passion that through its long suppression was now asserting itself with volcanic necessity.

Don't live in a way that makes you feel dead.

Desire is never final, desire is imprecise and impractical [...]

One just has to look at the thing from a perspective that interests you personally.

Early on, for better or worse, I chose whose child I wanted to be: the child of the novel. Almost everything else was subjugated to this ruling passion, reading stories. As a consequence, I can barely add a column of double digits, I have not the slightest idea of how a plane flies, I can't draw any better than a five-year-old.

How is it possible to hate something so completely and then suddenly love it so unreasonably?

When my little group get together, if we disagree about something, we can sort it out. Example: Mohona Hossain hates Divargiit Singh. Hates all his movies. Hates him with a passion. She likes that other fool with the eyelashes like a lady! But we compromise. Never once have I burned a single video of hers.

the object of her passion was only an accessory to the passion itself, a passion that through its long suppression was now asserting itself with volcanic necessity.

Novels are what I know, and the novel door in my personality is always open.

because America is the kind of bitch who turns anyone who truly cares about Her into a crazy person.

when you're writing it's such an obsessive thing, and then when you're done it's like pushing something out of your body (...)

but to create a real feeling—made

no geographic or racial qualification guarantees a writer her subject. Baldwin's pedigree didn't gift him The Jimmy. Only interest, knowledge and love will do that...