Quotes About Passion

Enthusiasm glows, radiates, permeates and immediately captures everyone's interest.

Enthusiasm is the yeast that raises the dough.

Writing books hurts like no other kind of writing.

All individual and social woes are born of passion for work.

To-day my skies are bare and ashen, And bend on me without a beam. Since love is held the master-passion, Its loss must be the pain supreme

Did I want a lawyer? Hell no, I didn't even want to be a lawyer.

Cops and firemen are, without doubt, the horniest bastards on the planet.

Eres tú flor carnal de mi jardin ideal.

Mi pasión es rumor de un palmar." As Victoria led him into the hut, Steve murmured: "My passion is the whispering of palm trees.

So what's your definition?" "Two people who just have to be together," he replied without hesitation. "Two people who are not complete when they're apart. They're lovers and best friends, too. There's lust and laughter, and they can't imagine being with anyone else." "So Steve Solomon believes in romantic love?

You leave a little bit of yourself behind in every case," Ray Pincher said. "Not that you want to, but that the practice of law demands it." "True enough," I said. "There's a lot of me smeared on a lot of courtroom floors.

8. Love is chemistry and

Nothing pleases me more than to go into a room and come out with a piece of music.

Why would I retire? Sit at home and watch TV? No thanks. I'd rather be out playing.

It was Elvis who really got me hooked on beat music. When I heard 'Heartbreak Hotel' I thought, this is it.

It's like if you're an astronaut and you've been to the moon, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well presented body; but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "Woo hoo, what a ride!

Love and fuck in the same breath, even if it's your last.

If we learned to drive as badly as we learn to make love, the roads would be nothing but wrecks. The erotic can be a window into the deepest core of feeling, but more and more doesn't get you there.

Love and fuck in the same breath, even if it's your last.

I could only dimly articulate it then, but I think I believed that Art would give me entry into a no-man's-land where the laws of straight no longer applied. And that once I touched the soul of another artist, a comrade in arms, the bodies would fall into place like folds of a garment, twining us in a passion of the flesh. Pretty high-falutin', and an awful lot of effort just to get a man to go to bed with you.

As an artist, you reach for the pen that's full of blood.

Lust and the English make no sense to me.

The pain between them made me as envious as their laughter, because it was real and expressible, blood-red with passion, and not the invisible pain of a ghost like me. Sometimes my head filled with a scream that went on for hours but was silenced by the walls of the closet. My face still wearing its social smile fixed in place as if by a stroke.