Quotes About Love

her husband had been the best sort of partner, one who understood what it meant to respect somebody and love them for who they are and not wish for them to be different, or need them to be different, that had been the key to their long and happy life together, but, also, her husband had been natively cheerful and essentially kind, and those things had helped a lot

Is it better for you to have what you have now, this opportunity in another country, or is it better for you to be with the people who will always love you no matter what?

We love you because you are you." "It is OK to like yourself." "Don't measure yourself by what others accomplish.

Only a foolish woman would allow her man to earn his living as a moving target.

I love you, for God's sake. I still love you. I loved you more than anyone on earth. But I'll never trust you, after what happened. It's what Alice said. You'll never grow up. There is no peace in you.

Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.

Kyra: I always felt profoundly at peace. I don't know why, it still seems true to me: if you have a love, which for any reason you can't talk about, your heart is with someone you can't admit - not to a single soul except for the person involved - then for me, well, I have to say, that's love at its purest. For as long as it lasts, it's this astonishing achievement. Because it's always a relationship founded in trust. Tom: It seems mad to me.

Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you

Gallimard: It's... a pure sacrifice. He's unworthy, but what can she do? She loves him... so much. It's a very beautiful story. Song: Well, yes, to a Westerner. Gallimard: Exuse me? Song: It's one of your favotite fantasies, isn't it? The submissive Oriental woman and the cruel white man.

But he would protect her with his heart for a little while. For a little while, before the insentient iron world and the Mammon of mechanised greed did them both in, her as well as him.

So it went on continually, the recurrence of love and conflict between them. One day it seemed as if everything was shattered, all life spoiled, ruined, desolate and laid waste. The next day it was all marvellous again, just marvellous. One day she thought she would go mad from his very presence, the sound of his drinking was detestable to her. The next day she loved and rejoiced in the way he crossed the floor, he was sun, moon and stars in one.

She couldn't quite, quite love in hopelessness. And he, being hopeless, couldn't ever quite love at all

Our leaders have not loved men: they have loved ideas, and have been willing to sacrifice passionate men on the altars of the blood-drinking, ever-ash-thirsty ideal. Has President Wilson, or Karl Marx, or Bernard Shaw ever felt one hot blood-pulse of love for the working man, the half-conscious, deluded working man? Never. Each of these leaders has wanted to abstract him away from his own blood and being, into some foul Methuselah or abstraction of a man.

What is ahead of us? Like Pascal, we don't know. "Believers and non-believers stand in the same darkness. Neither sees God." Therefore like Pascal we should wager on life. We should bear ourselves in this world as though we have seen God, be kind to each other, love wisely, and give to our children what we would have wished for ourselves.

I'll take happiness. My happiness, not society's happiness. I will love a man who pleases me, and please a man who makes me happy—but only as long as he makes me happy, not a moment longer.

I call hellfire a threat," Natasha said, " and 'love thy neighbor' a value. But I believe in hell, or something close to it. I think hell is what we get right here on earth when people trade their spiritual and political values in on spiritual and political threats.

the only unfailing guide I've ever found through the innumerable blind alleys of my life as a writer, man, husband, father, citizen, steward, or believer, is the love burning in my heart. for me, prayer is about one thing: making contact with that love. though it burns in there like a candle flame, hot, bright, beautiful, love's flame is so fragile… keeping one's love burning, and living in accord with that burning: this, to me, is prayer.

I loved the solar smile he would turn on his friends at times--and on me--nonplussing us when he simply left it on us, full-beam, for such a long, long moment that we'd finally have no choice but to realize this was no social smile, no rote kind of friendliness: this was what it felt like to be completely seen and loved for a moment.

There were a couple of occasions in India when I was twenty that felt to me like going out with a thimble in your hand, hoping to catch a drop of rain, and having the ocean land on your head. These experiences convinced me that there is an absolute love that pervades everything.

an eye for an eye is smart, see, but love is dumb, lovers are fools.

Cause I'm a Christian. Or was. And Christ's love doesn't work, is what we feel in the Army. That kind of shit gets you killed here, it's an eye for an eye here, if Christ's love was real this whole war couldn't be happening.

choke on blood, if I speak. But then words well right up with the blood, I'm helpless to stop them: "I know you hate the mill," I tell him, and tears come the instant I speak. "I know you love baseball, and aren't doing what you want. But at least Vera fights. She says her dopey prayers no matter what!" I lean against the door, gasping for air and strength to finish. "All I want is for you to fight, Papa. To fight to stay alive inside! No matter what.

Fear drains us, while love empowers us.

No matter what else you're involved in, regardless of what else you're doing, make your children a high priority. God has given you an amazing privilege! Say no to other things before you say no to your kids.