Quotes About Love

Think crucial hanging. Think crayon orange. There is one low, leaning heart-shaped globe left and dearest, can you tell, I am trying to love you less.

Before, the only thing I was interested in was love, how it grips you, how it terrifies you, how it annihilates and resuscitates you. I didn't know then that it wasn't even love that I was interested in but my own suffering. I thought suffering kept things interesting. How funny that I called it love and the whole time it was pain.

I saw a mom take her raincoat off and give it to her young daughter when a storm took over the afternoon. My god, I thought, my whole life I've been under her raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel that I never got wet.

dearest, can you tell, I am trying to love you less.

Say we spend our last moments staring at each other, hands knotted together, clutching the dog, watching the sky burn. Say, It doesn't matter. Say, That would be enough. Say you'd still want this: us alive, right here, feeling lucky.

My mother's psychic says, everyone essentially wants the same thing as everyone else, a sense of belonging, a coming home.

what I have done is risked everything for that hour, that hour in the black night, where one flashing light looks like love, I have pulled over my body's car and let myself believe that the dance was only for me, that this gift of a breathing one-who-wants was always a gift, was the only sign worth stopping for, that the neon glow was a real star, gleaming in its dying, like us all, like us all.

But love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible.

Months later, when we went on our first date, I tried to seem put together, I wore a shawl she had given me. And her ring. I thought everything was behind me: death, and dying, and sickness. I didn't know I was changing my life— that I would have done anything, that what was left of me would become so ruthless to survive.

You say you love the world, so love the world.

It is what we do in order to care for things, make them ourselves, our elders, our beloveds, our unborn. But perhaps that is a lazy kind of love. Why can't I just love the flower for being a flower? How many flowers have I yanked to puppet as if it was easy for the world to make flowers?

A horse gives way to another horse and then suddenly there are two horses, just like that. That's how I loved you.

How good it is to love live things, even when what they've done is terrible, how much we each want to be the pure exonerated creature, to be turned loose into out own wide open without a single harness of sin to stop us.

It wasn't until later, when I moved in with him and stood outside on our patchy imperfect lawn, that I remembered what had been circling in me: I am beautiful. I am full of love. I am dying.

Perhaps we are hurtling our bodies towards the thing that will obliterate us, begging for love from the speeding passage of time...

How good it is to love live things, even when what they've done is terrible, how much we each want to be the pure exonerated creature, to be turned loose into our own wide open without a single harness of sin to stop us.

It means, if you're alone, when love is all around, We all tip our lonely hats in one un-lonely sound.

It means, if you're alone, when love is all around, We all tip our lonely hates in one un-lonely sound.

It is what we do in order to care for things, make them ourselves, our elders, our beloveds, our unborn. But perhaps that is a lazy kind of love. Why can't I just love the flowers for being a flower? How many flowers have I yanked to puppet as if it was easy for the world to make flowers?

I trust him. He leans in, tells me the real miracle, more than marriage, the thing that makes you believe there might be a god after all, is the making of a child. He stares at me, but I am not there anymore. I don't say we've tried a long time, been sad, been happy, that perhaps the only thing I can make is love and art. I want to tell him that's enough. Isn't it?

How do you love? Like a fist. Like a knife.

the one who wants to love you, but often isn't good at even that, the one who doesn't want to be diminished by how much she wants to be yours.

I am beautiful. I am full of love. I am dying.

May you have the gladness of Christmas which is hope; The spirit of Christmas which is peace; The heart of Christmas which is love.