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Heartthrob Quotes

Browse 24 quotes about Heartthrob.

Heartthrob Quotes

“The light was crude. It made Artaud's eyes shrink into darkness, as they are deep-set. This brought into relief the intensity of his gestures. He looked tormented. His hair, rather long, fell at times over his forehead. He has the actor's nimbleness and quickness of gestures. His face is lean, as if ravaged by fevers. His eyes do not seem to see the people. They are the eyes of a visionary. His hands are long, long-fingered. Beside him Allendy looks earthy, heavy, gray. He sits at the desk, massive, brooding. Artaud steps out on the platform, and begins to talk about " The Theatre and the Plague." He asked me to sit in the front row. It seems to me that all he is asking for is intensity, a more heightened form of feeling and living. Is he trying to remind us that it was during the Plague that so many marvelous works of art and theater came to be, because, whipped by the fear of death, man seeks immortality, or to escape, or to surpass himself? But then, imperceptibly almost, he let go of the thread we were following and began to act out dying by plague. No one quite knew when it began. To illustrate his conference, he was acting out an agony. "La Peste" in French is so much more terrible than "The Plague" in English. But no word could describe what Artaud acted out on the platform of the Sorbonne. He forgot about his conference, the theatre, his ideas, Dr. Allendy sitting there, the public, the young students, his wife, professors, and directors. His face was contorted with anguish, one could see the perspiration dampening his hair. His eyes dilated, his muscles became cramped, his fingers struggled to retain their flexibility. He made one feel the parched and burning throat, the pains, the fever, the fire in the guts. He was in agony. He was screaming. He was delirious. He was enacting his own death, his own crucifixion. At first people gasped. And then they began to laugh. Everyone was laughing! They hissed. Then, one by one, they began to leave, noisily, talking, protesting. They banged the door as they left. The only ones who did not move were Allendy, his wife, the Lalous, Marguerite. More protestations. More jeering. But Artaud went on, until the last gasp. And stayed on the floor. Then when the hall had emptied of all but his small group of friends, he walked straight up to me and kissed my hand. He asked me to go to the cafe with him.”

ActingHeartthrob
Author:Anaïs Nin
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“He's all dark and light. His perfectly mussed brown hair, lighter than mine because he's half-Japanese, half-Italian. His eyes that have specks of light brown, but shades of darkness, too. The tan of his skin from playing tennis on the school team. His slightly crooked nose from when we were kids and went ice skating at Winter Lodge, chasing each other around the rink, and he tripped over a bump in the ice. Somehow, it works on him. He's gorgeous. And I hate him.”

Light And DarknessHeartthrobChildhood FriendFrenemies To Lovers
Book:The Charmed List
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“If I said my karaoke song was 'Adore You' by Harry Styles, what would that say about me?" I tilted my head. "I'm not familiar with that song, actually." He grinned. "Great. That means I'm up." A funky pop song started playing and Jae put his all into portraying a guy who didn't need his lover to say she loved him, he just wanted to show how passionate he was about her. Jae's musical talent mostly extended to playing instruments, but what his voice lacked in smoothness, he made up for with enthusiasm and sincerity and oh my gulay, he was looking me dead in the eyes as he sang as if there was no one else in the room and I was ready to melt under his heated gaze. Ready to do lots of things, honestly, none of which would be appropriate in front of a crowd, particularly one that included my aunt and grandmother.”

SingingHeartthrobFor Her
Book:Blackmail and Bibingka
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“He was a dark, handsome man. The kind who just needed a shave and he'd be perfect. His chiseled jawline was covered in stubble that was almost a full beard, his eyes were gold with a dark-brown perimeter, and he had curly raven-black hair combed back from his forehead. Overall, he had a definite Mediterranean look to him. It was Deacon Tremblay. She didn't need the internet to verify his identity. His picture, his profile, his every feature were embedded in the minds of all American women. Probably in the minds of international women too.”

AuthenticHeartthrobHandsome Man
Book:The Vanishing at Castle Moreau
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