Quotes About Love

I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see. And I've lived longing for your every look ever since. The longing entered time as this body. And the longing grew as this body wanes. That longing will outlive this body I loved you before I as born. It makes no sense, I know. Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes. And I've been lonely for you from that instant.

but in the city in which I love you, no one comes, no one meets me in the brick clefts; in the wedged dark, no finger touches me secretly, no mouth tastes my flawless salt, no one wakens the honey in the cells, finds the humming in the ribs, the rich business in the recesses; hulls clogged, I continue laden

O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach. There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Nothing saves him who's never loved. No world is safe in that one's keeping.

My love's hair is autumn hair, there the sun ripens. My fingers harvest the dark vegetable of her body. In the morning I remove it from my tongue and sleep again.

O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach.

His love for me is like his sewing: various colors and too much thread, the stitching uneven.

I know moments measured by a kiss, or a tear, a pass of the hand along a loved one's face. —Li-Young Lee, from "Always a Rose," Rose (BOA Editions, Ltd., 1986)

Sooner of later, God will again bear out that semblance He makes of me each day. He'll knead, fold, punch, pull, mark, smudge, erase, and tear away. Sometimes it feels like love. And makes me tremble. Sometimes it hurts like death. And makes me shake.

What binds me to this earth? What remembers the dead and grows toward them?

Water has invaded my father's heart, swollen, heavy, twice as large. Bloated liver. Bloated legs. The feet have become balloons. A respirator mask makes him look like a diver. When I lay my face against his—the sound of water returning. The

God-My-Father says from those three words he gave me, all other words descend, branching. That still leaves me unfit for conversation, like some deranged bird you can't tell is crying in grief or exultation, all day long repeating, 'O my God. O my love. Holy, holy, holy.' 'Three Words

It is an emotional rather than logical equation, an earthly rather than heavenly one, which posits that a boy's supplications and a father's love add up to silence

I know lips that love me, that return my kisses by leaving on my cheek their salt. And there is one I love, who hid her heart behind a stone. — Li-Young Lee, from section 5 of "Always a Rose," Rose (BOA Editions, LTD, 1986)

Which is this? This is persimmons, Father. Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk, the strength, the tense precision in the wrist. I painted them hundreds of times eye's closed. These I painted blind. Some things never leave a person: scent of hair of one you love, the texture of persimmons, in your palm, the ripe weight.

What binds me to this earth? What remembers the dead and grows toward them? I'm

The good boy hugs a bag of peaches his father has entrusted to him. Now he follows his father, who carries a bagful in each arm. See the look on the boy's face as his father moves faster and farther ahead, while his own steps flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors under the weight of peaches.

Sometimes my love is melancholy and I hold her head in my hands. Sometimes I recall our hair grows after death. Then, I must grab handfuls of her hair, and, I tell you, there are apples, walnuts, ships sailing, ships docking, and men taking off their boots, their hearts breaking, not knowing which they love more, the water, or their women's hair, sprouting from the head, rushing toward the feet.

Chase rolled his eyes. "You're such an idiot." "Yeah, but I'm your idiot." "Nothing to be too proud of." "For me it is." Alex leaned forward and kissed him. It was a brief press of lips, but hinted at the promise of something much deeper

I brought children into this dark world because it needed the light that only a child can bring.

I would know your scent anywhere. Even in the darkest night in the darkest room with a hundred other people." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Yes, Camille. I would know it. Always, I would know...you.

job to remember everything. But the lady was a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. Alas, Napier loved nothing better

Long before silver bells jingled, Christmas lights twinkled, and horse-drawn sleighs went dashing through the snow, God reached down from heaven with the best gift of all. Love, wrapped in swaddling clothes. Hope, nestled in a manger.

Our love for people doesn't end when they pass away. More often our feelings deepen as we realize how much they mean to us and how dearly we miss them.