Quotes About Passion

The urge to destroy is also a creative urge.

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.

Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.

If I paint a wild horse, you might not see the horse... but surely you will see the wildness!

Cuanto más hago el amor más ganas tengo de hacer la revolución

I believe passionately in edutainment—whether in front of a business audience, a classroom of students or a crowd of parishioners at church. Laughter

something about rules—you have to either follow them or break them with gusto.

Artists don't talk about art. Artists talk about work. If I have anything to say to young writers, it's stop thinking of writing as art. Think of it as work.

People always comment about my clothes. They don't think a fashionable woman can love food and be knowledgeable and actually cook.

The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication: that is why so many bad artists are unable to give it up.

All's fair in love and war — and coffee.

We do not have to go in search of passion. Instead we need to search for God, who plants the seed of passion in our hearts.

Follow your muses instead of trying to solve the social wounds of your adolescence. We've lost a whole generation of people who are dealing with their environment by retreating, by going into therapy. So instead, you go to open mic at a crummy tavern and perform your art. Rather than being introspective and constantly working on your shortcomings, get angry, get excited, get social.

Sex makes you get real.

Rock stars are like prophets. There's something about somebody who can get up on a stage and sing. And then when they write you songs, forget it, okay?

I have two homes in Malibu, a home in Canada that I'm building, and I just love pouring my heart out into this part of my life.

You were inside my body, but somehow 'tis my soul you touched, Iain Mackinnon.

How do you feel?" Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed. "Like I want you to kiss me again." And _that_ was the invitation he'd been waiting for.

He wanted to taste nothing unless it was the sweetness of her mouth, the musk of her arousal, the salt of her tears, wanted to touch nothing unless it was the silk of her hair, her soft curves, wanted to breathe nothing unless it had come from her lungs.

I want to undress you." "I haven't touched a man since...since you.

She had no idea how she was supposed to act, no idea how to feel. Julian had just made incredible love to her, but he wasn't *in love* with her. He'd stamped himself forever on her--body, heart, and soul--but a year from now he probably wouldn't remember who she was. He'd rocked her world, and yet he was only temporarily a part of it. What was a woman supposed to say? "Thanks, stud"?

I'm not like him, Kara. Whoever he is, I'm not like him." She ran a hand over his chest, with its mat of golden curls and teased one flat brown nipple, desire already running hot in her veins. "No. No you're not.

Making love with you is even more wonderful than making music." He drew her closer. "Och, Sarah, you _are_ my music.

He ached to touch her, to kiss her, but she hadn't asked him to do either - yet. He'd rather eat his own balls than ruin this for her.