It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbitten, it will stir. Open it's jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey.
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 can live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.