Quotes About Love

never wanted her to worry that his love could be swayed by a prettier face or a better offer, as if either could exist in this world. But he was not prone to flowery words and emotional speeches. He had cultivated neither,

When I was a little girl, rocking my little dolls, I remember thinking I would be the world's best mom, and so far I've done it.

Having a child makes you realize the importance of life - narcissism goes out the window. Heaven on earth is looking at my little boy. The minute he was born, I knew if I never did anything other than being a mom, I'd be fine.

Craziest thing I've done for love is getting married. I think it's crazy. I think it's crazy, crazy, crazy. I'm never going to say I wouldn't do it again but I have to make sure it's love and not settling for the 'I have to do this by a certain age ' which is kind of what I did.

Almost everyone has or will experience getting dumped in their lifetime. Unless, of course, you're a nun. Jesus can't dump nuns.

No matter what religion people choose to live by, I came to realize that their choice is ultimately what is best for them. The holy wars are what get us into trouble. If people minded their own business as far as religion is concerned and didn't get caught up in saving other people's souls, they just might be able to sace their own souls and bless those around them with their contagious state of euphoria. Indeed, the world needs more love.

Zu viele Gedanken machen alles kaputt - das Essen und die Liebe.

I guess relationships are just funny like that. It's impossible to figure out why some work out and others don't. Why someone can be so imperfect and still be the perfect person for you. Maybe, in the end, it's not about changing the person you care about. Maybe it's about learning what you can live with. Or maybe it's really about learning what you can't live without.

I knew he was a prick, but a part of me wanted to hear what he'd say, to hear him say how sorry he really was that he'd screwed up. I wanted groveling for forgiveness and pledges of undying love. As dumb as I knew it was, I wanted him to fight for me, to prove that I hadn't made a mistake by believing in him. Or us.

How was it possible to hate him so much and still need him so much at the same time?

For years, I kept a Post-it note above my desk. WORK NOT LOVE! was what it said. It seemed a sturdier kind of happiness.

The thing is this: Even if the husband leaves her in this awful craven way, she will still have to count it as a miracle, all of those happy years she spent with him. "It was a fucking miracle that I found him," she tells the philosopher.

There is a picture of my mother holding me as a baby, a look of naked love on her face. For years, it embarrassed me. Now there is a picture of me with my daughter looking exactly the same way.

Once when he was still young, I saw a bit of his scalp showing through his hair and I was afraid. But it was just a cowlick. Now sometimes it shows through for real, but I feel only tenderness.

She remembers the first night she knew she loved him, the way the fear came rushing in. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart. One day this too will stop, she thought. The no, no, no of it.

That night on TV, I saw the tattoo I wished my life had warranted. If you have not known suffering, love me. A Russian murderer beat me to it.

It is so easy now for the wife to be patient and kind to the daughter. She will never love anyone or anything more. Never. It is official.

You know what's punk rock about marriage? Nothing. You know what's punk rock about marriage? All the puke and shit and piss.

She told me that at the end of death there was a long tunnel and in it awaited everyone you ever loved. But if you never loved anyone there was just an empty room.

Hard to believe I used to think love was such a fragile business. Once when he was still young, I saw a bit of his scalp showing through his hair and I was afraid. But it was just a cowlick. Now sometimes it shows through for real, but I feel only tenderness.

But you could, if you were wrong and if you had a crooked heart, forget this most obvious and endearing thing and instead speak of a time you were all alone, in the country, with no one wanting a thing from you, not even love. You could say that was your happiest time. And if you did this then telling about this happiest of times would cause the person you most want to be happy to be unhappy.

Once when she was just learning to talk, I ran my hand across her face, naming every part of it. Later, when I put her in the crib, she called me back. First, she asked for water, then for milk, then for kisses. "It hurts. Don't go," she said. "What does? What hurts, sweetie?" She paused. "My eyelashes.

I remember that day, how you took a $50 cab from work, how you held me in the doorway until I stopped shaking. We had told people. We had to untell them. You did it so I wouldn't have to speak. Later, you made me a dinner of all the things I hadn't been allowed to eat. Cured meat, unpasteurized cheese. Two bottles of wine, then finally, sleep.

But the smell of her hair. The way she clasped her hand around my fingers. This was like medicine.