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"This level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,Whose quiet ripples meet obediently A marked and measured line, one after one. This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm. I have a need of wilder, crueler waves; They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. So let a love beat over me again, Loosing its million desperate breakers wide; Sudden and terrible to rise and wane; Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide That casts upon the heart, as it recedes, Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds."
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Exlpore more Passion quotes
"And there is my payment the rubies in your cheeks. Are you properly scandalized by your wicked behavior? If you were Catholic, you'd singe the ears of the priest you confessed to. Do you remember making me swear to repeat all those naughty actions agian, no matter what you said this morning?' Now that he brought it up, I did recall saying that. Great Betrayed by my own immorality. 'God, Bones...some of that was depraved.' 'I'll take that as a compliment.' He closed the distance between us.'I love you. Don't be ashamed of anything we did, even if your prudery is on life support."
"Passion is finding something you're unwilling to live without."
"Contradiction is not a sign of falsity, nor the lack of contradiction a sign of truth."
"If you are a musician, sing to one as if you were singing to a million. If you are a dancer, dance to one as if you were dancing to a million. If you are a performer, perform to one as if you were performing to a million."
"I want to explore every aspect of you."
"To follow a passion is to be consecrated."
"When you take pictures of nature with passion, nature poses for you more passionately!"
Explore more quotes by Dorothy Parker
"And there was that poor sucker Flaubert rolling around on his floor for three days looking for the right word."
"This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it."
"My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him."
"I never see that prettiest thing-A cherry bough gone white with Spring-But what I think, 'How gay 'twould beTo hang me from a flowering tree."
"Some men break your heart in two,Some men fawn and flatter,Some men never look at you;And that cleans up the matter."
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