Quotes About Love

John had one built in Paris for his wife. They've

bring himself to leave her, even when

Falcon kissed his sister on the forehead. "We'll find her," he said. "I promise you, we'll find her, and we'll bring her

Love isn't something you can give yourself permission for. You can't pick the time and place, or the girl. Love is God's gift to you and a woman, forever and always.

The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love.

Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart. - Michael: A Pastoral Poem

Marrying to increase love is like gaming to become rich; alas, you only lose what little stock you had before

Tis my maxim, he's a fool that marries, but he's a greater that does not marry a fool.

you love your people but you don't understand them. They find God in each other. And when they lose each other, they lose God and they're lost. And it's hard to help them

They had buried him under our elm tree, they said -- yet this was not totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.

Sometimes it seemed to Lydia that work was the only certainty, the only lasting truth in a human world of fitful change. Work and the mountains remained. Joy was deceitful and as brief as a summer rainbow. Love was a spear upon which you hurled yourself in ecstasy--to discover pain and bear the wound forever. A man in your heart, the child of your flesh, a dream of your spirit--you gave yourself to them, wholly and in wonder, and they never knew you.

She folded her arms around her stomach: how precious she seemed to herself, carrying another life, and one that was part his; carrying another design of nose and eyes and mouth, fingers and toes and tiny bones, all within herself.

People have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love-the deepest kind of love.

Although the old hound had no way of knowing it, he had stirred memories, and what priceless treasures they were. Memories of my boyhood days, an old K. C. Baking Powder can, and two little red hounds. Memories of a wonderful love, unselfish devotion, and death in its saddest form.

Mama," I asked, "do you think God made a heaven for all good dogs?" "Yes," she said, "I'm sure He did.

I figured the lion had scented my pups. The more I thought about anything harming them, the madder I got. I was ready to die for my dogs.

I SUPPOSE THERE'S A TIME IN PRACTICALLY EVERY YOUNG boy's life when he's affected by that wonderful disease of puppy love.

Where the Red Fern Grows taps into the wellspring that runs deep in all of us as we fall in step with a boy and his dogs and, piece by piece, our own stories unfold.

When I saw my little sister kneeling in the center of that snow-white circle, and that old crutch laying on the ground beside her, I forgot about ponies and .22s. I wanted my little sister to get that old leg of hers fixed up. I wanted that more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. That was going to be my wish. Once

Wilson Rawls

Men," said Mr. Kyle, "people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love—the deepest kind of love.

In a mile-eating trot, I moved along. I had the wind of a deer, the muscles of a country boy, a heart full of dog love, and a strong determination.

people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love—the deepest kind of love.