Quotes About Love

She understood then what Nana meant, that a harami was an unwanted thing; that she, Mariam, was an illegitimate person who would never have legitimate claim to the things other people had, things such as love, family, home, acceptance.

Por ti lo haria mil veces mas

She thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager, an unintended thing, a pitiable, regrettable accident. A weed. And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. She was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother. A person of consequence at last.

For you, a thousand times over. Then I turned and ran. It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn't make everything alright. It didn't make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. But I'll take it. With open arms. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting.

Father's world was unsparing. Nothing good came free, even love. You paid for all things, and if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

With me as the glaring exception, my father molded the world around him to his liking. The problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can't love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little.

For an hour or two every Thursday, when Jalil came to see her, all smiles and gifts and endearments, Mariam felt deserving of all the beauty and bounty that life had to give. And, for this, Mariam loved Jalil.

You can't love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a littele

There, the future did not matter. And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them. She uprooted them and ditched them before they took hold.

Tariq snapped the magazine back into his handgun. Do you have it in you? Laila said. To what? To use this thing. To kill with it. Tariq tucked the gun into the waist of his denims. Then he said a thing both lovely and terrible. For you, he said. I'd kill with it for you, Laila.

Mariam saw now the sacrifices a mother made. Decency was but one...Mariam wished she's been a better daughter to Nana. She wished she's understood then what she understood now about motherhood.

I laughed. Clutched him in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. What was that for? he said; startled, blushing. I gave him a friendly hug, smiled. You're a prince, Hassan. You're a prince and I love you.

Love is a damaging mistake, and it's accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion A Thousand Splendid Suns (2007)

Änd the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion.

He used to wonder how such a frail little body could house so much joy, so much goodness. It couldn't. It spilled out of her, came pouring out her eyes.

How glorious it was to know that her love for it already dwarfed anything she had ever felt as a human being

For you, a thousand times over (Bareh tu hazar dafa)

Tidak ada kata yang terucap, tidak ada yang perlu kami katakan, inilah harta yang dimiliki oleh mereka yang menyimpan kenangan yang sama, yang saling menjadi kenangan pertama, yang menyusu dari payudara yang sama.

l'amore era un errore pericoloso e la sua complice, la speranza, un'illusione insidiosa. E

El corazón de un hombre es miserable. No es como el vientre de una madre. No sangra, ni se ensancha para hacerte sitio.

Mammy's heart was like a pallid beach where Laila's footprints would forever wash away beneath the waves of sorrow that swelled and crashed, swelled and crashed.

No one snaps our composure quite like someone we love.

She wished she could visit Mariam's grave, to sit with her awhile, leave a flower or two. But Laila sees now that it doesn't matter. Mariam is never very far. She is here, in these walls they've repainted, in the trees they've planted, in the blankets that keep the children warm, in these pillows and books and pencils.

that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them. She uprooted them and ditched them before they took hold.