Quotes About Passion

It embarassed her ow, the way she bruned candles so unthikingly, gazing at words that seemed to hide ideas, or ideas inexpressible in words, how the sentences had carried her forwards like a river or a piece of music. And yet how close the truth had seemed back then. She had been twenty-four years old and she had fallen in love.

Castleford looked up lazily. He turned his gaze on Summerhays. "What is wrong with him, to get him all puffed up like he holds a bad wind that needs farting?" "Fate. Passion. The stupidity of life." Castleford drank some coffee. "In other words, he has fallen in love.

I never hated you. My anger was never with you, but with the little hell my heart had put me in. The anger always passed. I never regretted loving you. If I had gone to my grave never kissing you or touching you, I still would not have thought it a wasted love.

I feel like I could eat the world raw.

A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.

Our mouths opened under each other, and the warmth of his sweetened throat poured into mine. I could not think, could not do anything but drink him in, each breath as it came, the soft movements of his lips. It was a miracle.

You make the rarest canvas, love

Her only love was reason. And that has never been the same as wisdom.

I would look at him and feel a love so sharp it seemed my flesh lay open. I made a list of all the things I would do for him. Scald off my skin. Tear out my eyes. Walk my feet to bones, if only he would be happy and well.

Yet you would dare to stay?" "I dare anything," he said. And that is how we came to be lovers.

He wanted to go. He had always wanted to go, from the moment he was born into my arms.

The heat rose up my neck, wrapped fingers over my face. His hair fell around me, and I could smell nothing but him. The grain of his lips seemed to rest a hairsbreadth from mine.

Se inclinó hacia mí, envuelto en bronce, oliendo a sudor, cuero y metal. Cerré los ojos al sentir sobre mis labios los suyos, la única parte aún suave de Aquiles. Después de marcho.

And then he pressed his lips onto mine. "Live", he said. "Oh live, my life, my love, live." And that's when I'm supposed to open my eyes like a dewy fawn, and see him poised over me like the sun, and make a little gasping noise of wonder and gratitude, and then he fucks me.

I can please you, I swear it. You will find none more loyal than me. I will do anything." I do think he loved me a little. For before I could say the thousand humiliating things in my heart, all the proofs of passion I had hoarded, the crawling devotions I would do, I felt his power come around me. And with that same flick he had used upon the cushions, he sent me back to my rooms.

Some things are worth spilling blood for.

The yearning for him is like hunger, hollowing me.

I want-'' He stopped. Tore his fingers through his hair. ''Never mind what I want.'' His voice was quieter, now. ''What do you want?'' ''You.'' Always you.

A look passed across her face. I might have called it rage, if it were not pointed so inward.

Tell me," I said, "how do you know that your father is not right about my poisons? How do you know I will not drug you where you sit?" "I do not." "Yet you would dare to stay?" "I dare anything," he said. And that is how we came to be lovers.

I believed that she would rather set the world on fire than lose.

And that's when I'm supposed to open my eyes like a dewy fawn, and see him poised over me like the sun, and make a little gasping noise of wonder and gratitude, and then he fucks me.

I had painted his history in bright, bold colours and he had fallen in love with my art. And now it was too late to go back and change it.

Every moment he was with me, I felt a rushing in my throat, which was my love for him, so great sometimes I could not speak.