Passion (n.) are most violent in the finest minds.
Passion (n.) in the soul is commonly an action of the body.
Passion (n.) tamed by reason are sometimes the more useful the more they tend to excess.
Passion (n.) of whatever kind pleases the soul stirred by it, as long as the soul remains its mistress.
Passion (n.) in the broad sense is any thought aroused in the soul without its will — for whatever is not an action is a passion.
Passion (n.) belongs neither to the mind alone nor to the body alone but to their close and intimate union — like hunger, thirst, and colour.
Passion (n.) is known worst by those who feel it most: the most agitated are not those who understand their passions best.
Passion (n.) and action are one and the same event under two names: what happens to the patient is what the agent does.
Passion (n.) makes things look better than they are; we pay heavily for them, possession reveals their flaws, and disdain, regret, and repentance follow.
Passion (n.) does not depend on thought — it happens in spite of us — so animals may have passions, even more violent than ours, without having thoughts.
Passion (n.) are to be written about not as an orator or a moralist would, but as a natural philosopher — a physicist of the heart.
Passion (n.) are the subject everyone experiences and the ancients most botched — so I must write as if no one had ever treated it before.
A Passion (n.) is understood not by its cause, which Descartes admits is unknown, but by its use: it makes lasting the thoughts the soul would easily lose.
Passion (n.) are all good by nature — once we know them we have less reason to fear them; only their misuse or excess is to be avoided.
Passion (n.) answer not to what things are but to how they can help or harm us — their function is to make the soul want what nature finds useful, and keep wanting it.
Passion (n.) magnify everything: they make goods and evils seem far greater than they are — like animals deceived by bait, or rushing into big evils to avoid little ones.
Passion (n.) make all the good and bad of this life: those most capable of being moved taste the most sweetness — and, if unwise and unlucky, the most bitterness.
Passion (n.) are indefinite in number but only six are fundamental — wonder, love, hatred, desire, joy and sadness; all the rest are their compounds or variants.
Passion (n.) are useful only as fixatives: they preserve thoughts that would otherwise fade; they harm only by preserving them too long, or preserving the wrong ones.
Passion (n.) cannot be hallucinated: you may dream you see a thing that is not there, but you cannot dream you are sad without really being sad.