Quotes About Affection

your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour—and in the oddest places!—for the lack of it.

I had never seen the love and respect that men can have for each other. I've had time since to think about it. I think that the first time a woman sees this--though I was not yet a woman--she sees it, first of all, only because she loves the man: she could not possibly see it otherwise.

There are tears on his face, his face or mine, I don't know. I kiss him where our tears fall. I start to say something. He puts one finger on my lips. He smiles his little smile.

I wish to God I may die if I don't love you. There ain't no sky above us if I don't love you.

But the fact that I had said it as he held my hand made it sound to me unutterably helpless and soft and coy.

Love him, said Jacques, with vehemence, love him and let him love you

But sometimes he would ask, in the middle of a sentence- concerned, possibly, with Ancient Rome: 'Little-bit- d'you love me?

He had been been patting his handkerchief between his palms; now he opened his handkerchief and reached out and wiped my forehead. You're all I've got, he said then, with a shy, pained grin. Be careful. Daddy, I said. And began to cry. And if speaking had been agony, this was worse and yet I could not stop. And my father's face changed. It became terribly old and at the same time absolutely helplessly young ... Don't cry, he said, don't cry.

Es un milagro darnos cuenta de que alguien nos quiere.

Somebody," said Jacques, "your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour—and in the oddest places!—for the lack of it.

Then I took her in my arms and something happened then. I was terribly glad to see her. It really seemed, with Hella in the circle of my arms, that my arms were home and I was welcoming her back there. She fitted in my arms, she always had, and the shock of holding her caused me to feel that my arms had been empty since she had been away.

Somebody,' [...] should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour [...] for the lack of it.

I will smile at you when you wake up.

I've known him all my life and I hope I always know him.

And if it's children you're after, well, you can do that in five minutes and you you haven't got to love anybody to do it. If all the children who get here every year were brought here by love, wow! baby, what a bright world this would be!

It's a miracle to realize that somebody loves you:

She was responding to him with parts of herself that had been buried so long she had forgotten they existed. In his office that morning, when he shook her hand, she had suddenly felt a warmth of affection, of nostalgia, of gratitude even—and again in the lobby—he had somehow made her feel safe. It was his friendliness that was so unsettling. She had grown used to unfriendly people.

In his office that morning, when he shook her hand, she had suddenly felt a warmth of affection, of nostalgia, of gratitude even—and again in the lobby—he had somehow made her feel safe. It was his friendliness that was so unsettling. She had grown used to unfriendly people.

We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over. So in a series of acts of kindness there is, at last, one which makes the heart run over.

Stay near to me and I'll Stay near to you – As near as you are dear to me will do.

We stare into each other's eyes and softly kiss speaking and saying more with the movement of our lips and the tips of our fingers than words will allow us to say. Words can't say this. The one word love means too little for what it is. It means everything and that is still not enough. It doesn't communicate even a fraction of the feelings involved. Love. The word is not enough for what it is. Love. Love.

The one word love means too little for what it is. It doesn't communicate even a fraction of the feelings involved. Love. The word is not enough for what it is. Love. Love.

Thank you Lilly, Leonard, MIles, I love you and I thank you

When we bring back with us the objects most dear, and find those we left unchanged, we are tempted to doubt the lapse of time; but one link in the chain of affection broken, and every thing seems altered.