Quotes About Relationships

And why should he interest himself at all in my moral and intellectual capacities: what is it to him what I think or feel? I asked myself. And my heart throbbed in answer to the question.

He is very fond of me, almost too fond.  I could do with less caressing and more rationality.  I should like to be less of a pet and more of a friend, if I might choose; but I won't complain of that: I am only afraid his affection loses in depth where it gains in ardour. 

It may seem a hard matter," says he, "to love our neighbours, who have so much of what is evil about them, and whose faults so often awaken the evil that lingers within ourselves; but remember that he made them, and he loves them; and whosoever loveth him that begat, loveth him that is begotten also.

When I tell you not to marry without love, I do not advise you to marry for love alone: there are many, many other things to be considered. Keep both heart and hand in your own possession, till you see good reason to part with them . . . .

This considerably softened my resentment, though it did not make me relent. I was determined to show him that my heart was not his slave, and I could live without him if I chose.

I see clearly, now, the folly of throwing myself away on one that is unworthy of all the love I have to give and incapable of responding to the best and deepest feelings of my inmost heart.

When I tell you not to marry without love, I do not advise you to marry for love alone: there are many, many other things to be considered.  Keep both heart and hand in your own possession, till you see good reason to part with them;

this was 'Uncle Robson,' Mrs. Bloomfield's brother; a tall, self-sufficient fellow, with dark hair and sallow complexion like his sister, a nose that seemed to disdain the earth, and little grey eyes, frequently half-closed, with a mixture of real stupidity and affected contempt of all surrounding objects.

It is painful to doubt the sincerity of those we love.

Abscence makes the heart grow fonder.

To J. Halford, Esq. Dear Halford, When we were together last, you gave me a very particular and interesting account of the most remarkable occurrences of your early life, previous to our acquaintance; and then you requested a return of confidence from me.

If so, it will be because we love them more, and not each other less. Increase of love brings increase of happiness, when it is mutual, and pure as that will be.' 'But

If I tire, it will be of living in the world with you; not of living without your mockery of love.

I was not sent into the world merely to exercise the good capacities and good feelings of others - was I? - but to exert my own towards them; and when I marry, I shall expect to find more pleasure in making my wife happy and comfortable, than in being made so by her: I would rather give than receive.

What a tiresome custom that is, by the by - one among the many sources of factitious annoyance of this ultra civilised life. If the gentlemen must lead the ladies into the dining-room, why cannot they take those they like best?

The gentlemen seemed better, but, perhaps, it was because I knew them less - perhaps, because they flattered me; but I did not fall in love with any of them; and, if their attentions pleased me one moment, they provoked me the next, because they put me out of humour with myself, by revealing my vanity and making me fear I was becoming like some of the ladies I so heartily despised.

Her defeat did not stop Mrs Fish exercising her sharp and often cruel wit even against those she counted as friends. She even stood up to the formidable Alva, a close confidante, when Alva accused her of telling all their friends that she, Alva, looked like a frog. 'No, no!' cried Mamie, 'not a frog! A toad, my pet, a toad.

We do not always like the people we love- we do not always have that choice.

There are so few people given us to love. I want to tell my daughters this, that each time you fall in love it is important, even at nineteen. Especially at nineteen. And if you can, at nineteen, count the people you love on one hand, you will not, at forty, have run out of fingers on the other. There are so few people given us to love and they all stick.

And what amazes me as I hit the motorway is not the fact that everyone loses someone, but that everyone loves someone. It seems like such a massive waste of energy -- and we all do it, all the people beetling along between the white lines, merging, converging, overtaking. We each love someone, even though they will die. And we keep loving them, even when they are not there to love any more. And there is no logic or use to any of this, that I can see.

I do not think we remember our family in any real sense. We live in them instead

I'll meet some people who'll treat me mean and I'll just pray that I'll never be like them. And then I'll meet some very nice people and I will take a little bit of them and make myself a better person.

Anyhow, I've learned one thing now. You only really get to know people when you've had a jolly good row with them. Then and then only can you judge their true characters!

Deep down, the young are lonelier than the old.