Our passions are, in truth, like the phoenix. When the old one burns away, the new one rises out of its ashes at once.

I possess so much, but my love for her absorbs it all. I possess so much, but without her I have nothing.

Our passions are true phoenixes; as the old burn out the new straight rise up from the ashes.

Where a man has a passion for meditating without the capacity of thinking, a particular idea fixes itself fast, and soon creates a mental disease.

The passions are like those demons with which Afrasahiab sailed down the Orus. Our only safety consists in keeping them asleep. If they we are lost.

Passions are defects or virtues in the highest power.

Our passions are the true phoenixes; when the old one is burnt out, a new one rises from its ashes.

Reason can never be popular. Passions and feelings may become popular, but reason will always remain the sole property of a few eminent individuals.