Quotes About Love

Brit had wanted it to say LOVED. Those were the directions she gave me for the granite carver. But at the last minute I changed it. I was never going to stop, so why make it past tense? I

Then you're the one. Allie blinked at him. The one what? The one who loves more. ... You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone always puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride.

You could lose track of someone when you blinked, Alex realized. She vowed not to let that happen to her and her daughter. Because when it came down to it, being a judge didn't matter nearly as much as being a mother. When Alex's clerk had told her the news about the World Trade Center, her first thought had not been for her constituents . . . only for Josie.

Do we grieve because the person we lost was such a light in the world? Or do we grieve because of who he was to us?

Sometimes you can't tell how consuming love is until you can see its absence.

What power has love but forgiveness? In other words by its intervention what has been done can be undone. What good is it otherwise? —William Carlos Williams, "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower

People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love.

LOSE someone you love, there is a tear in the fabric of the universe. It's the scar you feel for, the flaw you can't stop seeing. It's the tender place that won't bear weight. It's a void.

That would be good," Win says. "For Felix, too." I believe that there are five things we need to say to people we love before they die, and I give this advice to caregivers: I forgive you. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. Goodbye.

There it was, shiny and silver, pinned to the requisite position on his chest-a shield that covered his heart but had not been able to protect it.

As she turns her head and focuses on me, I lift her palm to my mouth, press a kiss in its center. You are so brave, I tell her, and then I smile. When I grow up, I want to be just like you. To my surprise, Kate shakes her head hard. Her voice is a feather, a thread. No Mommy, she says. You'd be sick.

But it is exactly because I was a writer that I could never do it. The weapons an author has at her disposal are flawed. There are words that feel shapeless and overused. Love, for example. I could write the word love a thousand times and it would mean a thousand different things to different readers. What is the point of trying to put down on paper emotions that are too complex, too huge, too overwhelming to be confined by an alphabet?

The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? —REVEREND DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR

His stone walls are knee-high, not castle-worthy. They have large gaps in them for driveways and paths and grape arbors. And yet every time he drives past a property he's shaped with his own heavy hands, he pictures the parents sitting down to dinner with their children, harmony wrapping the table like mosquito netting as if literal foundations might lay the pattern for emotional ones.

Do you know what it's like to love someone so much, that you can't see yourself without picturing her? Or what it's like to touch someone?

When he kissed me, it was with the desperation of a man who is trying to save himself.

You know what my father used to say? True love is like bread. It needs the right ingredients, a little heat, and some magic to rise.

You can love a pet more than you love some people," I say suddenly, surprising even myself. Everyone turns, because unlike the others, I hardly ever draw attention to myself by volunteering information. "It doesn't matter what it is that leaves a hole inside you. It just matters that it's there.

It was tough to admit to yourself that someone else had more courage than you would in the same situation, or that it was possible to love someone in a way that you had not personally experienced.

He did not have to read the careful number to know the weight of Emily's heart; he'd held it for years

I won't forget you, Olive. No matter how hard I may try. That's not the same as being remembered. Isn't it?

Sometimes I think there's no such thing as falling in love. It's just the fear of losing someone.

makes a family a family isn't doing everything right all the time but, instead, giving a second chance to the people you love who do things wrong.

Grief, it turns out, is a lot like a one-sided video conversation on an iPad. It's the call with no response, the echo of affection, the shadow cast by love. But just because you can't see it anymore doesn't make it any less real.