Quotes About Love

Someday in the far future, when the Milky Way has turned another cosmic click, will someone carry a chair to your grave site and keep you company forever? Can you imagine someone loving you that much?

I did leave something behind with you: my heart. Of course, you didn't know it at the time. Maybe I didn't either. What have you done with my heart, Leo? Have you taken good care of it? Have you misplaced it?

He still heard his mother's voice--Davey--rise like whisper-dust from unseen corners in the house, but it was no longer the only voice he heard. His ears were also filled with the voices of others--his father and Primrose and Refrigerator John and his grandmother. Of course, all of their words for a thousand years could not fill the hole left by his mother, but they could raise a loving fence around it so he didn't keep falling in.

That was fifteen years ago. Fifteen Valentine's Days.

I'm always afraid. Is that what love is—fear?

In the eyes and ears of my heart, you and the magic are one and the same.

I loved his goatee even more than his mustache. It was so soft and white. I wanted to rub my face in it. I wanted to climb inside it and live there and peek out.

You're amazing,' he would say, and I would feel like a buttercream with a hazelnut heart

I'm afraid she'll look at him in some way that she doesn't look at me. I'm afraid that when I go to bed at night I'll still be wondering. I'm always afraid. Is that what love is— fear?

What's Washington America? Enos says it's a place with no wall and no love and lots of potatoes.

Don't hate him either. You shouldn't hate anybody ... If you start by hating one or two people, you won't be able to stop. Pretty soon you'll hate a hundred people ... A little hatred goes a long, long way. It grows and grows. And it's hungry. ... You keep feeding it more and more people, and the more it gets, the more it wants. It's never satisfied. And pretty soon it squeezes all the love out of your heart ... and all you'll have left is a hateful heart.

Easier to rearrange the stars than a father's mind.

When she dreams of love, she dreams of smashed potatoes.

And the last remaining pace between our lips were gone and i was falling headlong into her eyes, right there on Palo Verde after dinner. And I can tell you, that was no saint kissing me.

Real mothers don't die, said Ferdi. No one had an answer to that. So we talked about oranges. Like mothers, oranges were a common topic. Enos said he had eaten them many times, but Ferdi said they were only made up. What do oranges taste like? I asked Enos. He closed his eyes. Like nothing else. What do they look like? Like a little sun before it sets. Feeding said, Oranges don't exist.

He stared at me. She liked you, boy. The intensity of his voice and eyes made me blink. Yes, I said. She did it or you, you know. What? Gave up herself for a while there. She loved you that much. What an incredibly lucky kid you were.

But she loves her daughter, David can tell, loves her the way David's mother loved him, and sometimes David feels that same love he used to, except now it's coming from other places, other people, and it's a good thing the love is coming because he's beginning to think there aren't enough rules in the universe to bring his mother back.

Can you understand this? Shooting dope is all about getting warm and fuzzy. Dependably so. But the Daddy-rush... Forget about it! I've never felt anything so terrifying! It's so real, even the pleasure can break your heart. Which, in the grand scheme of things, is what separates shooting smack from loving your little girl. Heroin may kill you, but it'll never break your heart. Not like a child.

Our eyes kissed...

I think that a lot of people are in love with stress. It's the dirty little secret of Western civilization. People often mistake stress for fuel.... to me, stress is just another bad drug that I don't want to do.

if you love your garden, you don't mind working in it, and waiting. Then in the proper season you will surely see it flourish.

What were parents for if not to be with their children in times of danger?

After that, Mrs. Hansen stopped visiting. Mom receded from a lot of my memories and Dad came in clearer focus, making breakfast in Mom's place, driving me to school on the days it rained. When Mom showed up, she was a force, sparkling at dinner parties, running around the kitchen cooking four-course dinners, but it seemed to cost her. She stayed at that level—50 percent of her—for a couple months.

I stared across the crackling fire at Brenda, the glow lighting up her heart-shaped face. My love for her was carved into my bones.