Quotes About Love

Despite everything, I believed somehow there was time. Love's first mistake. Perhaps love's only mistake.

I sing to the geese. And I feel her. It's different from remembering her or yearning for her. I feel her near me. I don't know if she is the geese or the river or the sky or the moon. I don't know if she is outside of me or inside of me, but she is here. I feel her love for me. I feel my love reach her. A brief, easy exchange.

I held her as she wept. I stroked her hair, loose and slightly matted. 'Stay here with me. Or let me come with you.' She pulled me down to kiss her. Warm. Briny. 'I love you,' she said, her lips still against mine. But it meant no.

It's good to get whacked open at least once, though,' she says. 'You can't really love from inside a big, thick shell.

Soon Paula would begin complaining that he didn't understand her, didn't appreciate her, didn't love her enough, when in fact he loved her so much his heart often felt shredded by it. But people always wanted words for all that roiled inside you.

When my mother died, I sort of felt her inside me sometimes,' I say. 'Like I'd swallowed her.' He laughs. 'Swallowed her.' 'I still have moments when I feel that, when it feels like she's inside me, and there's no difference between us or that the difference doesn't matter.

This was the way it was with Marc. His heart had a narrow field of vision. I knew it held a great many things, but the aperture was small and I had to wait my turn to be rotated back around into the light where I would glow so brightly I'd be all he could see.

And I kiss him. A long uninterrupted kiss that goes straight through my body, ringing it in the very best way.

Did love, she wondered, include this desperate yearning to present the world as truly beautiful to someone else?

She wraps an arm around me and pulls me in tight. 'I know how you feel. You know I do. It's good to get whacked open at least once, though,' she says. 'You can't really love from inside a big thick shell.

You are in my stomach' was their most intimate expression of love

I don't know if she is outside of me or inside of me, but she is here. I feel her love for me. I feel my love reach her.

You can't really love from inside a big thick shell.

That night at Gertie's when she asked me if I preferred to be the one who loved slightly more or loved slightly less.

loved that Amy Lowell poem when I first read it, how her lover was like red wine at the beginning and then became bread.

I wasn't sure how I would kiss her without lifting her up to my lips. She laughed as if I had said this out loud.

For me and my true love will never meet again By the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

I told him the things that were coming back to me about my mother when I was little: her lemon smell

Han parkerar på min gata och vi hånglar lite till. Inget prat. Inga pussar. Kyssarna är långa och intima, som om vi berättar allt det vi behöver säga varandra på det här viset

Det är så mycket lättare att gråta när man känner någons armar runt sig [Karaktärens ord]

My parents were married twenty-three years and never made it look appealing.

I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead ...

She laughed. 'Was she wine or bread to you?' 'What do you mean?' 'It's from an Amy Lowell poem we all loved in college. Wine is sort of thrilling and sensual, and bread is familiar and essential.' 'Wine, I suppose.' 'Would it have turned to bread?' 'I don't know.' 'It doesn't always.' 'No, I suppose not.

We're walking close and bump against each other. Another person might have just taken his hand and said, Are you ever going to kiss me? But I'm not that person. It always takes me by surprise when someone wants to kiss me, even if they've met me at midnight with wine and a blanket. People change their mind. Between the idea and the reality falls the Shadow.