Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air.
Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.
It’s the same thing. Passion is passion. It’s the excitement between the tedious spaces, and it doesn’t matter where it’s directed.
Without warning as a whirlwind swoops on an oak Love shakes my heart
His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and his face had taken on the colour and expression of a devout tomato. I could see he loved like a thousand bricks.
My love for dance was so strong.
Beauty may be the object of liking--great qualities of admiration--good ones of esteem--but love only is the object of love.
Actually, it's nice when people hate what you do, because it's still a passionate feeling about it. It's kind of when they're indifferent, you're like, "Oh, well, what am I really doing?" It's nice to go one way or the other.
I am not good. I am not virtuous. I am not sympathetic. I am not generous. I am merely and above all a creature of intense passionate feeling. I feel—everything. It is my genius. It burns me like fire.
the instant he knew he loved her, she slipped down his body and out of his arms
