Quotes About Love

i can only think god is responsible for passion,for god gives us bodies with which to express it and heart in which to hold it

Use it all you want. Marry him. He'll never really be yours, and you'll never know it. Or maybe you will.

I will die, however," he said quite seriously, "if you leave me again. Just watch me.

Did he mean for her to look at something she loved and think of him? How dare he. He had no right to give her gifts. No right to remind her she was alone by ensuring that she was not. No right to test whether she had a heart. No right to court her, to please her, or to do whatever he bloody well might be doing by giving her a kitten.

You are my dream, Cynthia.

For what it's worth . . . I don't think anyone you love is ever truly gone. I do very much feel their absence . . . but I also feel their presence all the time, in a new way. In some ways they're with me now more than ever. I don't know if that makes sense.

but the pain was old to him, and somehow it had become a part of him. He could bear it and speak of it. It had shaped him; he had accomodated it. He had loved abd he had lost and it had made him who he was.

She mulled how very Jonathan of him to effortlessly find his way to her when she needed him, labyrinth or no. Just as he'd effortlessly uncovered her secrets. But that was simply because he'd been born knowing the secret to her. He was hers and she was his. Just as there was one key for every lock

He was all too aware of the failings of his species and he knew how to use them to his advantage. A fascinating skill. A useful one. But hardly a loving one.

I thought love was meant to be an easy, peaceful thing, Lillias. But it's like life itself. It's maddening. And beautiful. And changeable and funny and passionate. It's...like a Hudson River Valley sunset. Underneath all that fire and glory the sky is ever constant. It's like you. For me, it is you.

And home, Elise, is anywhere love is. Any you are my love.

I couldn't see it because you are my heart, damn you! And how can I see my own heart if it's beating in my own chest?

Cynthia wondered how anyone could withstand this sort of happiness. But no doubt no one had ever before been as happy as she was at this moment, so there couldn't possibly be any precedent. She would have to show them all how to do it by surviving it and marrying Miles Redmond and living to a ripe old age.

Love is like a loaded musket," he mused. "And yet it's available to everyone. It's always . . ." He mimed thrusting out a gun. "'Here you are! Try not to kill yourself or others with it.' They oughtn't allow young people near it.

Rebecca stared back at him, still dazed. She'd forgotten how to speak; it seemed an unimportant skill, anyhow, when such kisses were to be had, when a whole world could be made from a kiss.

It's . . . Titian, Genevieve breathed. I'm sure of it. A slow, awestruck, disbelieving smile took over her face. Stunned pleasure shone from her eyes. And he was certain her heart was racing with the sheer delight of being in the presence of the thing. Because his heart was racing at simply watching her love it.

All his reckless, whimsical, sensual testing of the world throughout the years had been a search for what he knew with her. Passion and peace. Laughter and combat and friendship. God, but he loved her. It was an immensely humbling, enormous, radiant thing.

You wagered you could indulge passion and receive trust and honor in return, and lost.

when one loved, one cherished. One protected.

And in his weariness, only one word came to Jonathan, like a prayer. Tommy, he thought, invoking what was good and real. Tommy. The word for love in his world right now. Tommy. And he supposed the word that occurred to you in your darkest moments...well, that word meant love. That was perhaps how you knew. And perhaps that was the purpose of dark moments.

The question remains... who takes care of you, Miss Vale? I might ask the same question of you, Lord Dryden.

Only two things kept her from loathing him. The expression on his face when he'd said, France. And the expression on his face when he'd said, home.

This man offered her forever. And if Prescott had asked a month ago...If he'd asked the day before she'd encountered Jonathan Redmond at midnight outside the Duke of Greyfolk's house... Ah, but she was a different woman now. One kiss had changed that. And a ballroom orgasm.

He wanted to be a man she admired. The way he admired her. He wanted her to think of him as brave. He wanted to be better because of her, and for her. He was better because of her. She'd changed him irrevocably.