Quotes About Relationships

In our particular world in which conformity is the great destroyer of selfhood—in our society in which fitting the "pattern" tends to be accepted as the norm, and being "well liked" is the alleged ticket to salvation—what needs to be emphasized is not only the admitted fact that we are to some extent created by each other but also our capacity to experience, and create, ourselves.

Loyalty is not the kind of exclusive deal, it's just a sincere communication and the same values.

Small attentions make great friends.

To 'live', to be truly alive, it is not enough simply to breathe, to suffer, nor even to be happy; life is a secret that cannot be discovered on one's own. True living is done in pairs.

She must have said to herself that one can always rely on a gentleman when it's a question of not understanding a woman.

Si on ne pouvait pas acheter de l'amour avec de l'argent, l'amour perdrait beaucoup de sa valeur et l'argent aussi.

There are those who have said about us, "What does she see in him?" or "What does he see in her?"; the usual sort of thing that only proves two people indeed see everything in each other.

When a man close to sixty decides to break with a young woman whom he loves, and who loves him, what would you call it? — Damned stupidity, sir. — Yes, damned stupidity; in other words, 'good sense'.

Madame Rosa voyait que les gens devenaient de plus en plus gentils avec elle et ce n'est jamais bon signe.

Besides, he had slept with a good number of women in his life: it had nothing to do with that need for company. He stubbed out his cigarette in the sand: What he needed was a good dog who would come and offer his paw from time to time.

But perhaps there are points about which one never grows old. And it is no more agreeable at sixty-three to feel that a young woman no longer considers you a man than it is at sixteen to feel that she still considers you a child.

A woman you love, yes, of course. But sometimes one loves a woman... with anger, as though she were a means of possessing the world. Or a musical instrument on which to play loud martial music...

Aš gul?jau ten, ži?r?jau ? j? ir pratinasi b?ti dviese. Kai tavo gyvenime nieko n?ra, taip jau išeina, kad ten susigr?d? daug žmoni?. O kai kas nors yra, tai j? kur kas mažiau.

Marc, are there moments when I'm making you unhappy? Are there? That's the real test. If I do, then you truly love me." "Now, that's strange logic." "It isn't either. Any good lay can make a man happy. You've had hundreds of women. How many of them had made you unhappy?" "None." "Then you've never loved before.

Also, for the man, there is still one more loophole. If, by the grace of God, she's humble by nature and and ready to assume guilt, she might just think: 'I don't turn him on,' or 'He doesn't love me any longer.' And there it is, then understanding between the sexes, my friend. You can always blame it on her.

There is, of course, Niemen, in Switzerland, and Horsschitt, in Germany... It all depends on what you mean by 'love'.

My body had become that of an old liar, and my most spontaneous transports had begun to end in calculated maneuverings and delayed deliveries. It was no longer a question of self-esteem or pride; when I thought of breaking up with her, it was not to avoid some sort of discomfiture: it was a question of authenticity. I loved Laura too much to drag myself along on crutches in the wake of our love.

Tu as quelqu'un, quelque part ? A qui il faut écrire où on t'a enterré ? – C'est pas la peine de gaspiller un timbre. »

One makes mistakes; that is life. But it is never a mistake to have loved.

Women writers make for rewarding (and efficient) lovers. They are clever liars to fathers and husbands; yet they never hold their tongues too long, nor keep ardent typing fingers still.

We were hooked when we woke. We had arms for each other. But I yearned to resume My dreams of another.

May a man live well-enough and long-enough, to leave many joyful widows behind him.

She is my morning, she is my evening; we have a love that blooms over and again, more beautifully each time than the last.

May a man live well-, and long-enough, to leave many joyful widows behind him.