Quotes About Love

With women who do not love Us, as with the 'missing,' the knowledge that there is no hope left does not prevent our continuing to wait for news. We live on tenterhooks, starting at the slightest sound

When one has fallen in love first with one painter, then with another, one can finally admire the whole museum in a way that is not chilly, for the admiration is made of successive loves, each of which in its time was exclusive, but which have finally coalesced.

he asked himself whether this period, upon which he had entered, was to last much longer, whether presently his mind's eye would cease to behold that dear countenance, save as occupying a distant and diminished position, and on the verge of ceasing to shed on him the radiance of its charm.

Con le donne che non ci amano, come con i "dispersi", sapere di non avere più nulla da sperare non ci impedisce di continuare ad attendere.

Love? I make it often, but I never talk about it.

One would be cured for ever of romanticism if one could make up one's mind, in thinking of the woman one loves, to try to be the man one will be when one no longer loves her.

If the conversations of two people bound by a tie of intimacy are full of lies, these crop up no less spontaneously in the conversations that a third person holds with a lover about the person with whom the latter is in love, whatever the sex of that person.

Nos curaríamos para siempre de todo sentimentalismo si intentásemos, al pensar en la persona amada, tratar de ser el que seremos cuando hayamos dejado de amarla".

No doubt very few people understand the purely subjective nature of the phenomenon that we call love, or how it creates, so to speak, a fresh, a third, a supplementary person, distinct from the person whom the world knows by the same name, a person most of whose constituent elements are derived from ourself, the lover. And so there are very few who can regard as natural the enormous proportions that a creature comes to assume in our eyes who is not the same as the creature that they see.

Kadar ?lovek ljubi, je ljubezen prevelika, da bi jo mogel obdržati vso v sebi samem; tedaj ljubezen izžareva proti ljubljenemu bitju, naleti v njem na ploskev, ki jo prestreže in odbije proti izhodiš?u, in ta odboj lastnih ?ustev imamo za ljubezen onega drugega bitja ter smo od nje vsi o?arani, saj ne spoznamo, da izvira iz nas.

My mother, torn between her love for my father and her hope that I might turn out to have brains, preserved an impartiality which she expressed by silence.

I shall see myself that Morel is mine." This unmistakeableness in the eyes of everyone, in his own eyes, made M. de Charlus happiest of all. For the possession of what one loves is a joy greater than love itself.

Often those who hide their possession from everyone do so only for fear that the loved object will be taken away from them. And their happiness, by this prudent choice of silence, is diminished.

the only touchstone of merit seeming to me to be the way someone could be useful in connection with the one thing that seemed important—my love. Then, perhaps out of duplicity, or in a genuine surge of affection inspired by gratitude, by self-interest, and by all the physical features of Mme de Guermantes that nature had replicated in her nephew, I went on to add:

It was certainly not that I loved Albertine in the slightest: I knew that. Perhaps love is nothing but the ripple effect of those disturbances which, in the wake of an emotion, stir up the soul. My whole soul had been profoundly agitated when Albertine had told me, at Balbec, about Mlle Vinteuil, but these disturbances were over now. I no longer loved Albertine, for nothing remained of the pain, now cured,

At the very beginning of love, as at its end, we are not exclusively attached to a single beloved: it is the yearning to love, of which that person will be the loved outcome, and later the echo left in the memory, that wanders voluptuously in a place full of charms—sometimes deriving only from contingencies of nature, bodily pleasures, or habitation—interchangeable and interrelated enough for it to feel in harmony with any of them.

indeed when we are no longer in love with women whom we meet after many years, is there not the abyss of death between them and ourselves, just as much as if they were no longer of this world, since the fact that we are no longer in love makes the people that they were or the person that we were then as good as dead?

The difference in the making of these sorts of sorrows is that they come from the outside world and take the shortest and most painful route to the heart. The image of the woman we love, though we think it has a pristine authenticity, has actually been often made and remade by us. And the memory that wounds is not contemporaneous with the restored image; it dates from a very different time; it is one of the few witnesses to a monstrous past.

He made what apology he could and hurried home, glad that the satisfaction of his curiosity had preserved their love intact, and that, having feigned for so long a sort of indifference towards Odette, he had not now, by his jealousy, given her the proof that he loved her too much, which, between a pair of lovers, for ever dispenses the recipient from the obligation to love enough. He

There can be no peace of mind in love, since what one has obtained is never anything but a new starting-point for further desires

In such a case we feel more compassionate towards those unknown to us, whom we can only imagine, than towards those whose vulgar daily life is lived close to us, unless we feel completely one of them, one flesh with them; patriotism works this miracle, we stand by our country as we do by ourselves in a love quarrel.

Pois o que nós julgamos seja o nosso amor, o nosso ciúme, não é uma mesma paixão contínua, indivisível. Compõem-se eles de uma infinidade de amores sucessivos, de ciúmes diferentes, mas, por sua multidão ininterrupta, dão a impressão da continuidade, a ilusão da unidade.

To a person who loves, is not absence the most certain, the most effective, the most durable, the most indestructible, the most faithful of presences?

Car ce que nous croyons notre amour, notre jalousie, ce n'est pas une même passion continue, indivisible. Ils se composent d'une infinité d'amours successifs, de jalousies différentes et qui sont éphémères, mais par leur multitude ininterrompue donnent l'impression de la continuité, l'illusion de l'unité.