Quotes About Love

No point my telling you he's not worth it, I suppose. . . I've seen enough men in my time. Whoever he is, he's not worth what you'll pay.

I'll be in Heaven getting your room ready.

So when one spring in spite of all this good advice I fell in love, it felt like disaster. I took a tiny bite and it exploded in my stomach. Love splashed through every cranny, hauled on every muscle, unlocked every joint. I was so full of astonishment, I felt ten feet tall. My shoulders itched as if wings might break through.

But for me, Room is a peculiar (and no doubt heretical) battle between Mary and the Devil for young Jesus. If God sounds absent from that triangle, that's because I think that for a small child, God's love is represented, and proved, by mother-love.

You must feel an almost pathological need—understandably—to stand guard between your son and the world." "Yeah, it's called being a mother." Ma nearly snarls it.

Ma's in Room still, I want her here so much much much.

She was with Jude so rarely that when she was, every cell of her body rang with grateful knowledge of it.

Remember," she says on the way to the white car, "we don't hug strangers. Even nice ones." "Why not?" "We just don't, we save our hugs for people we love." "I love that boy Walker." "Jack, you never saw him before in your life.

None of this dirt is yours, I told her. You're as clean as rain. She kissed me, but on the forehead this time.

All I think when I look at you is hallelujah

Dearest Fido! You're not the stuff of a chapter," Helen protests. "Several volumes, at least.

So much of motherhood is acting.

Sometimes love is a pie. There just isn't enough to go around. Or OK, maybe there is enough love, but not enough time and attention, so you have to grab your piece, and then the pie smashes and you're fighting for crumbs...

If I ever got around to loving anyone else, I thought suddenly, it would have to be someone who would neither muffle my thunder nor steal it.

One couldn't pick whom to love, thought Anne, The woman beside her was friend and sister and lover and many things besides. One could only hope to recognise love where it grew, and get a grip on it and hold on.

Hang on, here's the Beatles, there's an oldie you might like from about fifty years ago,' she says, 'All You Need Is Love.' I'm confused. 'Don't persons need food and stuff?' 'Yeah, but all that's no good if you don't have somebody to love as well'...

How could anyone bear to be a parent? Like contracting to love a werewolf.

I didn't forget a day of you either.

I'd actually rather not have you thinking about that stuff every time you look at me, OK? There's more tears rolling down Grandma. Sweetie, she says, all I think when I look at you is hallelujah.

she feels that surge of warmth, and this time she remembers what it means: not love but piss. Or the love that's mixed with piss and can't be separated from it.

This was against every rule I'd been reared by. I kissed her back.

You can have this kind of love. You can have it. You just grab it. Of course the problem with having that love is that you can lose it, too.

People don't know. We don't know ourselves so we tell ourselves what we really know is other people. We could say the depth of pain we feel for the lovers who've left us is because we knew them so well.

No one ever loved you like him. And no one ever took it away so completely. But it's here. Look around.