Quotes About Passion

I loved him in a way you can really on do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to - it's dizzy and foolish and fierce.

He kisses like . . . like it could be his job." Margot giggles and lifts the spoons off her eyes. "Like a male prostitute?

When he backed away, his pupils were huge and unfocused. He blinked, and then he cleared his throat. "Belly," he said, and his voice was foggy. He didn't say anything else, just my name. "Do you still--" Care. Think about me. Want me. Roughly, he said, "Yes. Yes, I still." And then we were kissing again.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush.

My heart was pounding a million trillion times a minute. I never felt more alive. Anger, sadness, joy. He made me feel it all. No one else had that kind of effect on me. No one.

Make love or make war shug, but make something happen.

He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before. This was what people meant when they said the earth stopped turning. It felt like a world outside of that care, that moment, didn't exist. It was just us.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me.

It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to—it's dizzy and foolish and fierce.

All of this love crap makes me want to puke.

She always picked love; she always picked adventure. To her, they were one and the same.

So, how does he kiss?" I'm blushing. I tap my fingers on my lips before I say, "He kisses like ... like it could be his job.

Let's do it fucking for real, Lara Jean. Let's go all in. No more contract. No more safety net. You can break my heart. Do whatever you want with it.

I loved him in a way that you really can only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better, and doesn't want to- it's dizzy, and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.

To picture him, sitting at his desk at home, scribbling away with a pen and paper, endears him to me so completely. It gives me shivers. Currents of electricity from my scalp down to my toes.

It's like we're in a movie and the music is swelling and waves are crashing around us.

Jag ville inte att min kärlek en dag skulle slockna som en fallande stjärna. Jag ville att den skulle brinna för alltid.

His face darkens. He glares at me and I glare back. "Fine!" he yells. "I'm jealous! Are you happy now!" And then he jerks is head toward mine and he kisses me. On the lips.

You're in love with love

el amor es hacer elecciones valientes todos los días. Eso es lo que hizo ella. Siempre eligió el amor; siempre escogió la aventura. Para ella, eran una y la misma.

He says it with all the certainty only a teenage boy can have, and I have never loved him more than at this very moment.

He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before. This

God, why do I have to be a person who yearns so much?

He was going to be my last and my every and my always.