Quotes About Devotion

You blush. You are Charlotte's Web and I could love you.

Your lips were made for mine, Beck. You are the reason I have a mouth, a heart.

If you don't start with crazy, crazy love, the kind of love that Van Morrison sings about, then you don't have a shot to go the distance. Love's a marathon, Danny, not a sprint.

You miss me. And I miss you. It hurts, seeing you at that fire, giving your hands to the heat, the way I gave my hand to fire, only different. I imagine pushing you into the red abyss and jumping in after you, with you, so we can burn together, forever, a tree of life, light, sex.

Sometimes you love someone so much that you can't bear a taste or a text because only this kind of moment will do. Shared air. Stillness on a love seat.

Love is patient, love is kind.

Love's a marathon, Danny, not a sprint.

This is what all the love songs are about, the moment when you find your own way forward with someone and there is no turning back.

I'm carrying your heart in my heart.

If you don't start with crazy, crazy love, the kind of love that Van Morrison sings about, then you don't have a shot to go the distance.

When you want to make someone better, when you love someone, you do everything. Anything. Even if it's crazy.

I care and I want to know more and I want to cry and I don't want you to fall for anyone but me.

Love is kind, love is patient but also, mainly, above all - yes - Love is perverted.

But, know this, Beck: Every day I find a way to visit the pictures of you in my phone. I'm faithful.

You will always choose the Peaches and Benjis of the world over me because you're loyal to the gentry.

You love your writing, your friends, your city, men like Benji. And what all those have in common is that they will never love you back. While you give everything.

When you love somebody, or something, it's amazing how willing you are to overlook the flaws.

Before you get a dog, you can't quite imagine what living with one might be like; afterward, you can't imagine living any other way. Life without Lucille? Unfathomable, to contemplate how quiet and still my home would be, and how much less laughter there'd be, and how unanchored I'd feel without her presence, the simple constancy of it.

Loving a dog deeply does have a cellular quality, as though the most central part of you—your whole nervous system—gets tied into the bond, into the life you create together. You do get reprogrammed: a person with a dog becomes a dog person, with all the change that implies.

Anyone who's ever shifted from general affection and enthusiasm for a lover to outright obsession knows what I mean: the relationship is just there occupying a small corner of your heart, and then you wake up one morning and some undefinable tide has turned forever and you can't go back. You need it; it's a central part of who you are.

I remember thinking we were going to grow old together, one of those couples who hold hands, not just to keep from falling, but because they love each other so much that they can't be without contact.

As long as she would have him, the rest of the world could go hang.

Hugh paid no more attention to the farce than he had to the opera. He took every opportunity to study the young woman sitting beside him. She didn't hide her amusement at the production on stage, laughing at the pranks of the fool and clapping one hand to her mouth when the hero fell to his knee and proclaimed his love for the fainting maiden. Hugh sensed it was all genuine, as genuine as her nerves and her devotion to Willy and even her welcoming words to him this evening.

I loved them desperately. For four years I lived for them.