Quotes About Love

En fin de compte, l'amour n'a été possible que parce qu'il m'a vu non pas tel que j'étais, mais tel que j'allais devenir.

This feeling of love, it transports me, it makes me happy. At the same time, it consumes me and makes me miserable, the way all impossible loves are miserable.

In the end, love was only possible because he saw me not as who I was, but as the person I would become.

Desire does not go out like a match, it extinguishes slowly as it burns into ash.

He goes back to the books—this crazy number of books in the house neatly lined up or stacked in piles. All of a sudden I see a sort of admiration return to his face, but it's a painful admiration; what he likes about me is also what keeps me separate from him.

His was the first male sex I held in my hand, other than my own. My first kiss was the one he gave me. My first embrace, skin against skin, was with him.

Je voulais juste t'écrire que j'ai été heureux pendant ces mois que nous avons passés ensemble, que je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux, et que je sais déjà que je ne serai plus jamais aussi heureux.

C'était de l'amour évidemment. Et demain, ça sera un grand vide.

Si la vie m'était laissé, il se pourrait que je te prie de la partager avec moi.

One of my lifelong regrets is that I was not beautiful, and what is more, that I turned for love to those who could not but reject me.

The reunions are always joyous and the good byes bittersweet, everyone regretting they have so little time together. Thomas says that he doesn't know Vilalba very well because they usually just stay at the house for endless conversations, punctuated by laughter and complaints, long lunches and drawn-out dinners. He says that for him Spain is just people in his family who love one another, who eat and drink and cut each other off in conversation until night falls.

He says: Because you are not like all the others, because I don't see anyone but you and you don't even realize it. He adds this phrase, which for me is unforgettable: Because you will leave and we will stay.

C'est important : il me regarde d'une certaine manière et n'en déviera pas. En fin de compte, l'amour n'a été possible que parce qu'il m'a non pas tel que j'étais, mais tel que j'allais devenir.

I just wanted to write to tell you that I have been happy during these months together, that I have never been so happy and that I already know I will never be so happy again.

It's the most simple words that destroy us.

Without the war, without this magnificent summer, this absence of men, would we ever have met?

I think: In the end, he remained hidden all his life. In spite of the great departure, the ambitious effort to forge a new existence, he fell back into all the same traps: shame, the impossibility of sharing a love that endures.

It was love, of course. And tomorrow, there will be a great emptiness. But we could not continue—you have your life waiting for you, and I will never change. I just wanted to write to tell you that I have been happy during these months together, that I have never been so happy, and that I already know I will never be so happy again.

It is important to have friends. They are the meaning we give to life.

Living by her side was like living in a fairy tale because she had these moments of pure poetry—she invented whole worlds. He tells me that eventually she was placed in a specialized institution, that in the end his father resigned himself to it: the death of his soul. She is still there.

Il a compris, bien sûr. Il sait à quoi il doit mon intérêt pour lui. Mais pourquoi cela suffit-il à le faire rester ? D'autant qu'il l'a dit lui-même : on le renvoie fréquemment à cette parenté, il pourrait en être lassé. Il n'exprime pas de lassitude. Persiste dans le sourire. Et fournit lui-même l'explication à son acceptation de mon invitation. Il dit : vous avez dû l'aimer beaucoup, pour me regarder comme ça.

And when you've been hurt once, you're afraid to try again later, in dread of enduring the same pain. You avoid getting hurt in an attempt to avoid suffering: for years, this principle will serve as my holy sacrament. So many lost years.)

Pour finir, il dit qu'il m'aime et je le crois. Il parle d'une voix épuisée, presque résignée, comme pour un baroud d'honneur. Je l'écoute. Je lui souris faiblement. Je ne lui réponds rien. Je sais qu'il va partir, alors que, lui, l'ignore encore.

Mon frère meurt.