Our passions are the true phoenixes; when the old one is burnt out, a new one rises from its ashes.
In the human heart there is a ceaseless birth of passions, so that the destruction of one is almost always the establishment of another.
The heart of man ever finds a constant succession of passions, so that the destroying and pulling down of one proves generally tobe nothing else but the production and the setting up of another.
In the human heart one generation of passions follows another; from the ashes of one springs the spark of the next.
When the soul is ruffled by the remains of one passion, it is more disposed to entertain a new one than when it is entirely curedand at rest from all.
We live in wonder, blaze in a cycle of passion and apprehension.
A great tragedy passes from crest to hollow of passion, rises and sinks again, as rhythmically as sea-waves.
Our passions are true phoenixes; as the old burn out the new straight rise up from the ashes.
In the human heart new passions are forever being born; the overthrow of one almost always means the rise of another.
