Quotes About Love

There were those whose love spilled over into their every gesture, and so was shared by all who knew them. But they were rare folk indeed.

All the same, our eyes spoke of something good, something deep, something that could grow and flower if the world we lived in would allow it. Something too precious to put into words. Something I would not dare let out into the light of day, not yet.

Can this be love that twists and tears the heart so? Does love give nothing but the power to hurt each other? Is this what makes the simplest touch blend longing and terror in equal measure? Whatever this is, it feels like a mortal wound.

My heart. Your heart.

it matters not if you are here, or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light on the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are – you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.

How could you live without human touch? Wasn't that the first thing you knew, when you came into the world and they laid you on your mother's belly? Her hand would come across and stroke your back, and cup your head, and she would smile through tears of exhaustion and wonderment. That touch of love would be the very first thing for you.

His heart and mine added a rhythm all their own. We turned and turned, and with every turning we breathed a little more quickly and held on a little more tightly, and when we came back to the place we started, we stopped dancing and stood with our arms around each other, holding on as if we would never let go, not if the sky fell and the whole world came to an end.

To lose you is to spill my heart's blood. I do not know if I can bear the pain.

In time, your spirit will be with them again, perhaps in a great, spreading tree that shades the place where your grandchildren play. Maybe in a wide-winged eagle soaring aloft, watching as your dear one spreads her linen on the hawthorns to dry and looks suddenly to the sky, shading her eyes against the sunlight. You will be there, and they will know.

Quem é esta mulher? De cabelo cor de fogo Olhos sábios como os de uma coruja Mãos fortes como as de um guerreiro Delicadas como as de uma mãe, Toda ela é guerra por fora E bondade por dentro Segue o seu rumo O seu nome é Blackthorn Quem é este homem? Força nas mãos Verdade nos olhos Amor no coração Honra no seu espírito O nome dele é Grim

Love...it complicates our games, old friend, it insinuates itself, disrupting the most carefully laid plans and unmanning the most disciplined heart.

It is surely better to have had such a love and lost it than never to have known the joy of it at all.

You've only just discovered you have a heart. Let it beat a little.

had seen enough such deaths before to know that when the cloud of sorrow hangs too heavily over a person, nothing helps; no love, no hope, no

You know not, yet, the sort of love that strikes like a lightning bolt, that clutches hold of you by the heart, as irrevocably as death; that becomes the lodestar by which you steer the rest of your life . . . it is in the nature of your kin, to love this way.

To return to that realm of shadows for your sweetheart's sake, Clodagh, is a breathtaking act of selfless love. I think you are the only talisman he needs.

Porquê Sorcha? - disse ele. -Porquê ela para tanto sofrimento? Ela está inocente de qualquer maldade, incapaz de um pensamento mau. Porque há-de ela fazer este sacrifício por nós? - Porque é a mais forte - disse Conor simplesmente. - Porque dobra com o vento, mas não quebra. Sorcha é o fio que nos liga a todos. Sem ela somos como folhas ao vento, sopradas de um lado para o outro.

Allow someone to become too dear to you and you give your enemy a weapon more deadly than the sharpest sword, more lethal than the strongest poison.

Not so easy. Give your heart to someone and you spend your life in fear of losing them. In terror of seeing them hurt.

I will say one thing to you before we leave here. If you ever hurt Jena again, I'll strangle you with my bare hands. That's a solemn vow, Brother.

O que existe entre nós está para além do amor, Fainne. Ele é meu marido, meu amante e amigo, aquele a quem eu posso confiar os meus maiores segredos. Espero que um dia também tu tenhas a alegria de encontrar um parceiro assim, pois nada é mais importante.

She was gone. We all knew it. But nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Still my father held her tight in his arms, as if he might preserve that last moment of life, as long as he stayed completely still. His lips were against her hair, and his eyes were closed.

When I saw the illustration a new idea came to me. Might it not be possible to have Satsuko's face and figure carved on my tombstone in the manner of such a Bodhisattva, to use her as the secret model for a Kannon or Seishi? After all, I have no religious beliefs, any sort of faith will do for me; my only conceivable divinity is Satsuko. Nothing could be better than to lie buried under her image.

I wouldn't mind being injured if that would bring Satsuko pleasure, and a mortal injury would be all the better. Yet to think of being trampled to death, not by her but by her dog…