Quotes About Love

It's only possible to provide help when it's asked for. The rest of the time, all you can give is love.

You'll recognize those men, the ones inclined to their dark side, because they'll expect you to carry their load. They'll smother your anger with their pain, they'll make you doubt yourself, and they'll tell you they love you the whole time.

But Gloria kept her eyes trained on me, kept gripping my face. "You'll recognize those men, the ones inclined to their dark side, because they'll expect you to carry their load. They'll smother your anger with their pain, they'll make you doubt yourself, and they'll tell you they love you the whole time. Some do it big, like Ed, but most do it in quiet steps, like your father.

He was changed, burned, branded, destroyed and rebuilt. And he loved it.

Tears welled in Penelope's eyes, making the blue even darker. Then she reeled back and slapped him hard enough that his cheek stung. That is for what you did to me. Not in the dark, Jeremy. Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me... or perhaps we should call it 'fucking', since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation. Her voice shook as hard as her hands as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. It's for betraying my friendship.

Rakes make good husbands. Especially when they fall in love.

Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.

I keep it for its sentimental value," he said, his voice harder. "It was the last place we made love before you ended our previous affair.

Don't you know, Vivien? You never have to demand from me. Simply ask for what you desire and I would give you anything." He kissed her. "Anything at all.

This was her last chance to protect herself, her heart. She didn't take it. With a shiver, she released all the tension in her body and gave herself over to him. Her body. Her soul. And her love. Her love for him washed over her just as her orgasm did, sweeping her through a pleasure so powerful that it overwhelmed and threatened to destroy her. And she didn't care. She would rather burn in the fire of her love than to drown without him.

Most certainly not. Why face this with honesty and directness? It is so much more fun to dance around the truth, dodge the reality of the situation, which is that you are in love with this man, you share some kind of unhappy past with him...and that he has feelings for you, as well. Why would you ever wish to deal with that head on?

Maybe every couple lived in the gaps between conversations, unable to say the important things for fear they had already been said, or couldn't be said; maybe every relationship started over every time two people came together.

The movie I was working on, Cleopatra, it's about how destructive a force love can be. But maybe that's what every story is about.

She saw death as just another wedding she wasn't invited to.

We want what we want—we love who we love.

You don't really want my side of the story. You don't want to understand me, know me, to crawl inside of my head. You don't want to feel the things I've felt. You just want to know that one thing: why. Fine. Here's why: Her. I did it all for her.

Rye wondered if loving another person was a trap—that eventually you had to either lose them or lose yourself.

Maybe it's being close to the end, but I have this desire to pull Greg aside—to pull all my children aside, and my grandchildren—and to whisper something profound, to pass on the great wisdom I've acquired. Something that would open their hearts and create in them an unassailable courage, a generosity of spirit, faith in humanity.

He wondered if the German girl ever knew that someone had loved her so much that he painted her twice on the cold cement wall of a machine-gun pillbox.

has anyone ever been more lovesick than a zombie, that pale, dull metaphor for love, all animal craving and lurching, outstretched arms, his very existence a sonnet about how much he wants those brains?

Something about the memory caused him to tear up, to think again about the unknowable nature of the people we love.

You can't just say that, Pasquale. Those words have tremendous power. It's how people end up married.

What kind of wife would I be if I left your father simply because he is dead?

When he had asked [her]if the man she loved felt the same way, she had answered quickly that yes, the man loved himself as well.