Quotes About Love

What stirs lyrical poets to their finest flights is neither the delight of the senses nor the fruitful contentment of the settled couple; not the satisfaction of love, but its passion. And passion means suffering.

Nous aimons, sans nous en douter, tout ce qui nous livre à nos penchants, nous séduit et excuse notre faiblesse.

If we love truth more than the fine arts, let us pray to God for some iconoclasts.

El primer juramento que se hicieron dos seres de carne y hueso fue al pie de una roca que se deshacía en polvo; pusieron por testigo de su constancia a un cielo que no es el mismo ni un solo instante; todo pasaba en ellos y en torno a ellos y creían sus corazones libres de vicisitudes. ¡Oh, niños, siempre niños...!

Memories assailed him of how gently she had spoken, touched, and moved; of how she'd loved him fiercely despite his mistakes and obsessions and weaknesses. And the conviction descended on him that love like theirs couldn't possibly suffer any change.

Love and violence-not to conquer one with the other but to live with both, that's what I've learned. Each pulling me a different way. If I relax my struggles they don't tear me in two, but lift me up.

Is that why I went wild over her? Because once I saw her truly? Is devotion as simple as that?

She was a woman, a traitor, and a killer. Males and females wanted her. But I was the only one who ever could have loved her.

They started calling it The Rape, and it came to stand for everything: for coming together while falling apart; for loving each other and hating everybody else; for moving at breakneck speed while getting nowhere; for freezing in the streets and melting in the rooms of love.

things whose perishing had been arrested by their power to make her love them.

But nothing I could think up, no matter how dramatic or completely horrible, ever made her repent or love me the way she had at first, before she really knew me.

First I put my lips to her upper lip, then to the bottom of her pout, and then I kissed her fully, my mouth on her open mouth, and we met inside.

The water of inlets winking in the sincere light of day, under a sky as blue and brainless as the love of God.

We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven.

Happiness can not be traveled to,owned,earned or worn.It is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love,grace&gratitude.

He was a man who knew he'd come in after a long day and had found his shade (Irma)

So...what do you want to do? He didn't even have to think about it. Kiss you again.

That was something, wasn't it? Trust was a good place to start. Especially after the kind of betrayal she'd been through. It made him want to prove he was the kind of man she deserved. The kind of man who'd love her for better or worse. The kind who was faithful and true.

Sometimes family isn't the situation you're born into but the people who've chosen to love you along the way.

Love? The word streaked across the path of his thoughts like lightning across a stormy sky. He watched her now, watching Lulu, watching a moth flutter under the porch light, looking anywhere but at him, and sudden warmth flooded through him, making his knees weak. Yes, he loved her. He'd tried not to. But now here he was. On her porch, watching her watching a moth, and realizing he was the moth and she the light. It would always be this way.

Meet me back here in twenty," he called, shutting the door. " 'Kay, Dad!" He froze, the title catching him right in the gut. He watched her disappear into the barn, a smile of wonder lifting his mouth.

I want you to be my wife, baby. I want to come home to you every night and hear your laughter. I want to build a life together with all the things that matter. I want there to be family, and sailing, and church, and work, and kids . . ." Her lips trembled on a smile. "Five little angels?" He squeezed her hands. "I was thinking we'd start with one and work our way up. What about it, Maddy—will you marry me?

What happened, honey?" She melted at the endearment, at the look in his eyes. "I fell in love with you." Her words left her mouth on a rush of air. Something flared in his eyes. He pulled off his gloves, his eyes never leaving her, and cradled her face. His hands were warm and rough against her cold cheeks. "Eden . . .," he whispered. "I love you too.

I held her, he wanted to say, and if I knew for certain that all it would take to hold her again would be to die, then I couldn't raise the gun to my head fast enough.