It hurts sometimes more than we can bare. 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. Passion is the
source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the
ecstacy of grief. Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... and
though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws, and howl. It
speaks to all of us... guides us... passion rules us all. And we will obey.
What other choice do we have?