Quotes About Love

woman who claimed to want only the best for me, and yet she gave birth to me!

Twee mensenvlokjes waren we, een kind en zijn moeder, zwevend in het wereldruim, zes volle jaren lang - ze waren in mijn ogen niet meer dan een paar dagen. We waren als een kinderlied, een rijm van daden en van wonderen - totdat heel zacht een zuchtje wind, een vederlichte bries, een wiekslag van een waaier, in de bladeren blies - en het vonnis velde: jij hiernaartoe, hij daarheen - en daarmee was het uit, in honderdduizend scherven.

she poured herself into him wordlessly. Unable to stop, she emptied her very core into him, and yelled and sobbed and laughed and promised and begged, and explained why and why not, and why they must and why they couldn't, and why there was no life without and how everything is always ripped in the same place and how she curses the moment and is resurrected over and over again endlessly.

Alle waren jetzt damit beschäftigt, den Tisch zu decken, und niemand außer ihr bemerkte, was das Baby tat. Es drückte seine Lippen in das Innere von Avrams Hand, blökte ein sanftes und angenehmes Ba-ba-ba und genoss mit seinem ganzen Sein den Klang und das Kitzeln, das es wohl in den Lippen spürte. Auch in Oras Hals und Mund schwebte ein anregendes Summen, ihre Lippen spürten es auch, und in ihr murmelte es stimmlos ba-ba-ba.

When it came to her, he didn't do any accounting. He really did love her.

from the minute I saw your face, your round, light-filled face, with its beautiful, wise, pure forehead, with its roots of strong, dense hair, which I stupidly believed testified to your strong grip on life, and your broad, large, generous, dancing body – don't you dare erase even one of those adjectives – you were such medicine for me, such medicine for the dry bachelorhood that had closed in on me

What do people see in me on the first impression? ... Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?

She had not known how to tell him that his loving whispers were always in her ears, like a story she'd been told, the story of a thing she did not deserve. But he understood. He called those thoughts "the baby teeth of a snake," and swore he would rip them out of her, and pledged to prove to her that the opposite was true. And he didn't even have to explain to her what he meant by "the opposite"; she knew it was the opposite of her.

The body is so beautiful, she says with newly found wonder she senses. So good and so precious. Sweet, this body of ours is sweet. It gives us so much goodness and happiness if we're only good to it, if we only listen to it, because it is so wise. It always knows what we want before we know ourselves, and it knows what's really good for us. If we only understand what it's trying to tell us, our precious body, if we only love it as it is, exactly as it is...

Amore è il fatto che tu sei per me il coltello con cui frugo dentro me stesso". -------- Non si può guarire solo con le parole. Ammalarsi sì. Probabilmente non è molto difficile. Ma consolare? Far riviere? Per questo occorre vedere degli occhi di fonte a sè, toccare delle labbra, delle mani, un corpo che si ribella e strepita contro le tue idee infantili di astrattezza "pura". Cosa c'è di puro? Cosa c'è di puro in me ora?

What do people see in me on the first impression? Can they still see what I was until not long ago? Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?

again, her singing was her only absolute, the only thing that was completely her. a thousand classes hadn't given her this concrete insight: her voice was her place in the world, the home she leaves in the morning and returns to at night, in which she can be herself in her entirety and hope to be loved for all that she is and in spite of all she is.

Dopo aver fatto l'amore, dormiremo abbracciati. La tua schiena contro il mio ventre. E io stringerò le dita dei piedi attorno alle tue caviglie, come delle mollette, perché tu non possa volar via la notte. Saremo come un'immagine in un libro di scienze: un frutto tagliato a metà, tu la buccia e io il torsolo.

As a daughter grows older, she becomes a father's cherished blessing. Now Mama has someone to take her shopping who is not a prisoner of war.

None of those other things makes a difference. Love is the strongest thing in the world, you know. Nothing can touch it. Nothing comes close. If we love each other we're safe from it all. Love is the biggest thing there is.

I know you'll think this is crazy, but all I want to do is hold you, and I think that if you'll let me do that just for a few seconds, I can walk away, and never speak to you again.

How could they say that they truly loved each other? They had simply grown up together, been children together, and the proximity of it, the closeness of it, had produced in them love s illusion. And yet--on the other hand--what was love if it wasn't this instinct she felt...

Ben remembered that in Italy, he and Rachel had slipped down between rows of apple trees on the plain of the Po, deep into the cool and dark of orchards, and there they had kissed with the sadness of newlyweds who know that their kisses are too poignantly tender and that their good fortune is subject, like all things, to the crush of time, which remorselessly obliterates what is most desired and pervades all that is beautiful.

One thing has led to the next in my life, but like lines of a poem. I suppose I've thrown in my lot with love, and don't know any other way to go on breathing.

Guggenbühl-Craig, A. (1977) Marriage: Dead or Alive. Dallas: Spring Publications.

Hard to know is the deity of Abraxas.... Abraxas [is] life, altogether indefinite, the mother of good and evil. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness. [Abraxas] is the hermaphrodite of the earliest beginning. It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and love's murder. It is the appearance and the shadow of man.

The primal spirit loves stillness, and the conscious spirit loves movement.

It offers neither facts nor power, but for lovers of self-knowledge, of wisdom—if there be such—it seems to be the right book.... Let it go forth into the world for the benefit of those who can discern its meaning.

His failure to adapt to new techniques, to pander (his own word), probably made his supporters love him all the more, and probably also narrowed his political base.