Quotes About Relationships

This incident taught me that the more love we distribute, the more it grows, coming back to us from unexpected sources. And its corollary: when we demand love, believing it to be our right, it shrivels, leaving only resentment behind.

But where love and sorrow bind people together, goodbyes are not so easily said. We were about to discover that.

But when I see Sudha, her face bright with a simple, generous joy, the walls I'd set up so carefully collapse around me like a house of cards. Inside my heart it feels like a wet, new rain. In spite of all my insecurities, in spite of the oceans that'll be between us soon and the men that are between us already, I can never stop loving Sudha. It's my habit, and it's my fate.

That's how love stops us when it might be healthier to speak out, to not let frustration and rage build up until it explodes.

The herbs and chants weren't working because of my anger towards Ram. In some dark part of my soul, I wanted him to suffer.

To upset the delicate axis of giving and receiving on which our lives are held precarious.

Ah, love. Why had Vidhata made its nature so complex? Why did one love conflict, so often, with another?

So this, too, was true of love: it could make us forget our own needs. It could make us strong even when the world was collapsing around us.

That's love—golden ropes that bind you and pull you in different directions.

I knew now that love—no matter how deep—wasn't enough to transform another person: how they thought, what they believed. At best, we could only change ourselves.

Because that's the thing about us human beings when we really love someone, we can be happy even while our heart is breaking.

The life that you're living today is only a bubble in the cosmic stream, shaped by the karma of other lifetimes. The one who is your husband in this birth was perhaps your enemy in the last, and he whom you may hate, may have been your beloved. Why weep for any of them, then?

Left alone to die on a frozen hill! I, whose life had been a rush of attending to the needs of my five husbands—how ironic that at the moment of my own final need not one of them should be with me!

Animals were superior to most humans. Men would have turned away once you had nothing more to give them.

She would learn over the next years that love can feel a lot of different ways, and sometimes it can hurt a lot more.

Each time I went to a new brother, I'd be a virgin again.

The life that you're living today is only a bubble in the cosmic stream, shaped by the karma of other lifetimes. The one who is your husband in this birth was perhaps your enemy in the last, and he whom you hate may have been your beloved. Why weep for any of them, then?

I knew now that love - no matter how deep - wasn't enough to transform another person: how they thought, what they believed. At best, we could only change ourselves.

I was learning more about the twisted paths along which love swept us humans along than I'd ever expected—or wanted.

I wanted to warn my husbands that one couldn't depend on a man who plucked frailty and desire so easily out of his heart. How could he have compassion for the faults of others, or understand their need?

Talking further about it and realizing how deep my unhappiness went would only fill him with sorrow and guilt. That's how love stops us when it might be healthier to speak out, to not let frustration and rage build up until it explodes.

much. I knew now that love—no matter how deep—wasn't enough to transform another person: how they thought, what they believed. At best, we could only change ourselves.

I wonder if the story (though not intended as such by my aunt) is a warning for me, a preview of my own life which I thought I had fashioned so cleverly, so differently from my mother's, but which is only a repetition, in a different raga, of her tragic song. Perhaps it is like this for all daughters, doomed to choose for ourselves, over and over, the men who have destroyed our mothers.

When it hurts and destroys its follower, Love is worse than Hatred.