Quotes About Passion

I need love. I need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on.

And you know how it is with things that mean a lot to you. They get heavy. They drive you crazy. They make life worth living, they make life unliveable, you can't stay, you can't go, there's not enough tequila in all of Mexico to straighten out your mind, years go by and nothing ever changes. This face is one that will make you weak forever.

It's nonverbal: I need love. I need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on.

My life has been one long longing.

I can knit. I knit all year, day in, day out. It is my passion, and I rarely knit the same thing twice the same way.

But the book! The siren song of the book!

I studied you until I knew you, or at least, the public parts of you: your learning, your passion, the way your voice slows down when you answer a question. I studied your hands, and wondered how they'd touch me; your hair, and how it would smell. I wondered about that and about the rest of you I could not see. I wanted to know you. And I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to see me.

A passionate soul, who asks too much of himself, and under-values what he gives.

enough to excite the artist in any man.

When a writer talks about his work, he's talking about a love affair.

Para mí solo hay un infortunio: ¡tener que vivir y no poder crear!

there was a deep emotional attachment involved.

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

I do but sing because I must,And pipe but as the linnets sing.

She is coming, my own, my sweet;Were it ever so airy a tread,My heart would hear her and beat,Were it earth in an earthy bed;My dust would hear her and beat,Had I lain for a century dead;Would start and tremble under her feet,And blossom in purple and red.

Once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul thro' My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Love is and was my lord and king.

Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.

When I make a picture, I make love.

I can work with passion because it is creative, but not with lust, for it is destructive only.

Of course, he smothered it in words—odd words, too—melodramatic, poetic, out-of-the-way words that lie just on the edge of frenzy.

Oh, oh! This fiery height! Oh, oh! My feet of fire! My burning feet of fire!

He was deeply susceptible, moreover, to that singular spell which the wilderness lays upon certain lonely natures, and he loved the wild solitudes with a kind of romantic passion that amounted almost to an obsession. The life of the backwoods fascinated him—whence, doubtless, his surpassing efficiency in dealing with their mysteries

The delight that consumes the desire,The desire that outruns the delight.