Quotes About Love

He took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling her soft body beneath his coat. They'd both swelled since they'd first met. There was no way either would get into their wedding clothes. But they'd grown in other ways as well, and Gamache figured it was a good deal. If life meant growth in all directions, it was fine with him.

That's what I believe," said Ruth. "Peter didn't. Here was a man who was given everything. Talent, love, a peaceful place to live and create. And all he had to do was appreciate it." "And if he didn't?" "He would remain stone. And the deities would turn on him. They do, you know. They're generous, but they demand gratitude.

Chief Inspector Gamache knew one thing about hate. It bound you forever to the person you hated. Murder wasn't committed out of hate, it was done as a terrible act of freedom. To finally rid yourself of the burden.

But Annie hates children." "Well, she's not very good with them, but I don't think she hates them. She adores Florence and Zora." "She has to," said Beauvoir. "They're family. She's probably depending on them, in her old age. She'll be bitter Auntie Annie, with the stale chocolates and the doorknob collection. And they'll have to look after her. So she can't drop them on their heads now.

impossible to split language from culture. That without one the other withered. To love the language was to respect the culture.

enamorarse. «Ya no existe la soledad.»

Addicts, you're pathetic.' Myrna looked over at Ruth's vase of Scotch, half gone. `You're wrong there,' said Ruth, following Myrna's gaze. `This used to be my drug of choice. In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch. That lasted a while,' she admitted. `Now all I really crave is a good bowel movement.

Mothers and children are classic examples. Some mothers see their job as preparing their kids to live in the big old world. To be independent, to marry and have children of their own. To live wherever they choose and do what makes them happy. That's love. Others, and we all see them, cling to their children. Move to the same city, the same neighborhood. Live through them. Stifle them. Manipulate, use guilt-trips, cripple them.

You can never let someone know too often that they're precious.

who would want to kill kindness.

Reine-Marie put her head back and laughed. Armand smiled, then turned full circle. His gaze took in the dark forests and luminous homes, the three huge pines and the soft snow falling from the sky, as though the Heavens had opened, and all the angels were joining them. Here. Here. "Dad." Armand turned.

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Armand wondered if Florence understood that line from The Little Prince. He hadn't, as a child.

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other: Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth for the other: Now there is no more loneliness. -First Nations wedding blessing

He walked through the large apartment they'd bought in the Outremont quartier of Montreal when the children had been born and even though they'd long since moved out and were having children of their own now, the place never felt empty. It was enough to share it with Reine-Marie.

Now you will feel no cold For each of you will be warmth for the other Now there is no loneliness for you Now there is no more loneliness Now there is no more loneliness.

And she didn't care about any one, just this one.

But he'd found his answer when he'd found Reine-Marie, had loved and married her and loved her more each day. He knew then how kind God had been not to take one and leave the other. Even for him.

Ya no sentiréis frío, pues uno calentará al otro. Ya no existe la soledad para vosotros. Ya no existe la soledad. Nunca más habrá soledad.

Now there is no more loneliness. Go now to your dwelling place / To enter into the days of your togetherness

his son in Paris and left a message with

My father taught me poetry. We'd go for long walks through Outremont and onto Mont Royal, and he'd recite poetry. I'd repeat it. Not well, most of the words meant nothing to me, but I remembered it all, every word. Only later did I realize what it meant." "And what did it mean?" "It meant the world," said Gamache. "My father died when I was nine.

And he remembered hugging Sonny to him a few months later when the vet came to put him to sleep. And he remembered saying soothing things into the stinky old ears and looking into the weepy brown eyes as they closed, with one final soft thump of the ragged, beloved, tail. And as he felt the final beat of Sonny's heart Gamache had had the impression it wasn't that his old heart had stopped but that Sonny had finally given it all away.

Her voice changed slightly as she remembered, "But most he loved a happy human face.

No one could look at the beautiful young man now. They dropped their eyes from the scalding sight. From the eclipse. As all that love turned into hate.