Passion. It's a force so potent we still remember it long after it's faded away. A drive so alluring it can push us into the arms of unexpected lovers. A sensation so overwhelming, it can knock down walls we've built to protect our hearts. A feeling so intense, it resurfaces even though we tried so hard to keep it buried. Yes, of all emotions, passion is the one that gives us a reason to live, and an excuse to commit all sorts of crimes.
— Question. Would you die for me?
— That's too easy. Would you... Would you live for me?
— Careful. Do not say this oath thoughtlessly. Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes power. You want this?
— I do.
— Say it. Say it. Say it. Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty...
— God, you're so... Good.
Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... ...waiting... And though unwanted... ...unbidden... it will stir...open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank... Without passion, we'd be truly dead.