Quotes About Affection

Nothing in the world is as hopeful as knowing a woman you like is somewhere thinking about only you. Conversely, there is no badness anywhere as acute as the badness of no woman out in the world thinking about you. Or worse. That one has quit because of some bone-headedness on your part. It is like looking out an airplane window and finding the earth has disappeared. No loneliness can compete with that.

No hay necesidad de tocar, besar, abrazar. Pero lo hago de todos modos. Es nuestro último fetiche. El amor no es otra cosa al fin y al cabo, que una interminable serie de actos individuales.

The saved moment is the true art of love.

Love isn't a thing, but an endless series of single acts

The world is a forest of verdant possibility. No one person controls my happiness. No one person is the source of my joy. I am rooted in universal flow. My needs for love and affection are met by many sources. I am blessed by the ability to receive love through many channels. I open my heart to the love that is offered to me by multiple sources. My heart is a mountain meadow fed by many streams.

I adored you without thinking of you physically. I kissed your smile and adored your illusions.

I was a star spilled in your arms.

Tú, tú, eternamente tú, mi corazón hallado en el otoño de una vida angustiada y sin espera. Le diste corazón al universo que se ocultaba en mi, y supiste los cauces de mi alma y recogiste pétalos aislados en la flor del cariño, para prender la rosa que fue tuya desde el azul incierto de un primero de octubre enamorado.

This is so embarrassing, Melantha murmured as he stopped beside her bed and leaned down to settle her on the mattress. His lips, she thought, brushed her temple. You frightened me out of ten years of my life when you tumbled off the couch, he muttered near her ear. You are not allowed to faint unless it is from my kisses.

He pressed his lips against hers and closing his own eyes, ignoring the pain in his side, and the uncertainty in his chest he mouthed, 'I love my Princess. I love my Jocelyn. Love you and only you from now until forever.

I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles and even more, for every one of your smiles.

His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshipped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He— —still had the audience of her three brothers. Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly.

Love is just a system for getting someone to call you Darling after sex.

The heart of my life; the life of my heart.

Next to not living with those one loves, the worst torture is living with those one doesn't love.

You realize that tough love is also tough on the lover.

He loved his mother: doesn't that warm your silly, sentimental, twentieth-century heart? He loved his father. He loved his sister. He loved his niece. He loved his friends. He admired certain individuals. But his affections were always specific; they were not given away to all comers. This seems enough to me.

No, I was an odder old fool, grafting pathetic hopes of affection onto the least likely recipient in the world.

This being Europe, I felt it safe to kiss her on the cheek.

El amor, por su propia naturaleza, era perturbador, cataclísmico; y, si no, no era amor.

Would you rather tear up your own expressions of love, or the ones you had received?

Would you rather love the more, and suffer the more; or love the less, and suffer the less? That is, I think, finally, the only real question. Julian Barnes - The Only Story

Who can control how much they love? If you can control it, then it isn't love. I don't know what you call it instead, but it isn't love.

But you cannot leave Susan. How could you bear to withdraw your love from her? If you didn't love her, who would? And maybe it is worse than this. It is not just that you love her, but that you are addicted to her. How ironic would that be?