Quotes About Love

No, but still, the fact is, at least this is how it seems to me, everybody has to learn about it [love] from scratch for themselves. And we all make the same mistakes time and again while we're learning.

Real love is observing another person and being observed by another person with complete attention...and all art is love, because all art is about looking closely

I think the truth is…you fell for a face and a body and then put the person inside you wanted to find there.

We throw ourselves into the journey and when it's done, even while having learned that all experience involves the loss of something beloved, what is ledt in the residue of memory is love.

The act whereby God consummates the gift of being in the new creation that flows from the Word Incarnate's Paschal Mystery is love in a higher and more intimate sense than with any generosity bestowed in creating. It is the introduction of human freedom into the everlasting love-exchange of the Trinity itself.

An infinite God can give all of Himself to each of His children. He does not distribute Himself that each may have a part, but to each one He gives all of Himself as fully as if there were no others.

It is love—friendship—that sustains us, even in the worst of times, under the worst of circumstances. Even when we have been driven mad. Even when we have killed. We still love. We are still worthy of love. We can still be loved.

It is love—friendship—that sustains us, even in the worst of times, under the worst of circumstances. Even when we have been driven mad. Even when we have killed. We still love. We are still worthy of love. We can still be loved. —Daphne Gottlieb San Francisco

Il y a encore une mer à traverser oh encore une mer à traverser pour que j'invente mes poumons pour que le prince se taise pour que la reine me baise encore un vieillard à assassiner un fou à délivrer pour que mon âme luise aboie luise aboie aboie aboie et que hulule la chouette mon bel ange curieux.

Embrace me; embrace me: in my eyes worlds are made and unmade;

Do not make me into that man of hatred for whom I feel only hatred.

Je viendrais à ce pays mien et je lui dirais: "Embrassez-moi sans crainte... Et si je ne sais que parler, c'est pour vous que je parlerai

Je viendrais à ce pays mien et je lui dirais : "Embrassez-moi sans crainte... Et si je ne sais que parler, c'est pour vous que je parlerai".

My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope - make yourself a structure you can live inside.

Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn't love me - I felt the wash of her love every day, pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.

Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children... It was a fleeting statement, one I didn't think she'd hold on to; after all, she had birthed us alone, diapered and fed us, helped us with homework, kissed and hugged us, poured her love into us. That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.

I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son; she is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.

To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.

kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.

My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.

Love is a flame that burns in heaven, And whose soft reflections radiate to us. Two worlds are opened, two lives given to it. It is by love tht we double our being It is by love that we approach God.

That's all I wanted to do. Really. Just talk to Joshua. Tell him that being with him is the only thing that's ever mattered to me. Let him know about the letters I've been writing him, maybe offer to read one or two, so he'd know exactly how I feel, and how much I still want him. How sorry I am for anything I may have done wrong.

I didn't tell them how hard everything was without Joshua. How much I loved him. How I would have given up everything—everything—to be with him again. Even for just one night.

Boom. Boom. You might think of a heartbeat—your own. A child's. Someone else's. Or something's heart. And in that slowdown, you might think it's a kind of love. And you'd be right.