Quotes About Relationships

As I write this I feel that draining hollowing helplessness that genuine love for another person produces in you. It's at these moments that we know we are going to die.

I feel that draining, hollowing helplessness that genuine love for another person produces in you. It's at these moments that we know we are going to die.

Love is not a feeling. It does not belong to that category of bodily experience which would include, for instance, pain.

What power has love but forgiveness? In other words by its intervention what has been done can be undone. What good is it otherwise?

Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.

One no more owes one's beauty to a lover than one's wit to an echo

O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.

Love and sex are twin arts, requiring effort and knowledge. Only in fairy tales do people live happily ever after without working at it ...

No, no. I understand that. And I quite agree with you. But you know I've always contended that the affections could be made to combine pleasure and profit. I wouldn't have a man marry for money,--that would be rather bad,--but I don't see why, when it comes to falling in love, a man shouldn't fall in love with a rich girl as easily as a poor one. Some of the rich girls are very nice, and I should

Women can rob a man of sense faster than Appalachian jug whiskey.

It takes two people to make you, and one people to die. That's how the world is going to end.

She loved him not only in spite of but because he himself was incapable of love.

Now she hates me. I have taught her that, at least.

Love doesn't die; the men and women do.

It is as though the space between us were time: an irrevocable quality. It is as though time, no longer running straight before us in a diminishing line, now runs parallel between us like a looping string, the distance being the doubling accretion of the thread an not the interval between.

Did you ever have a sister? did you?

When the switch fell I could feel it upon my flesh; when it welted and ridged it was my blood that ran, and I would think with each blow of the switch: Now you are aware of me! Now I am something in your secret and selfish life, who have marked your blood with my own for ever and ever.

Maybe times are never strange to women: it is just one continuous monotonous thing full of the repeated follies of their menfolks.

You men,' she says. 'You durn men.

women will show pride and honor about almost anything except love ...

She has no mother because fatherblood hates with love and pride, but motherblood with hate loves and cohabits.

Perhaps love cannot live anywhere but books.

It's Cash and Jewel and Varadaman and Dewey Del', pa says kind of hangdog and proud too, with this teeth and all, even if he wouldn't look at us. 'Meet Mrs Bundren', he says.

I kept thinking that. I don't know why it is I can't seem to learn that a woman'll do anything.