Quotes About Love

Because I feel like a fool," I said. "Falling for a straight guy. It's a fucking cliché." "Really, Henry? All you feel is foolish? Is that why you were about to throw away your sobriety?

Dr. N: How do you manage to hold each other with no bodies? S: (with a sigh of exasperation at me) We envelop each other in light, of course. Dr. N: Tell me what that is like for spirits? S: Like being wrapped in a bright-light blanket of love.

Souls are created in a positive matrix of such love and wisdom that when a soul starts to come to a planet like Earth and join the physical beings who have evolved from a primitive state, the violence is a shock. Humans have the raw, negative emotions of anger and

There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue these.

A friend asks if I know the difference between a saint and a martyr: A saint is someone who radiates goodness and bears no faults. A martyr is someone who lives with a saint.

Love is a willingness to sacrifice.

Intercourse is the organic expression of two psyches, not a mechanical plugging in.

Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice.

If you have a deep-seated need to be loved and admired every day, you shouldn't be in politics. You should go work at a pet store.

In every Heart...awaits Your Angel.

She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.

I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.

She had grown older. And he loved her more now than he had loved her when he understood her better, when she was the product of her parents. What she was now was what she herself had decided to become.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

A love story is not about those who lost their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing—not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.

Don't we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it.

She is a woman of honour and smartness whose wild leaves out luck, always taking risks, and there is something in her brow now, that only she can recognize in a mirror. Ideal and idealistic in that shiny dark hair! People fall in love with her. She is a woman I don't know well enough to hold in my wing, if writers have wings, to harbour for the rest of my life.

She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water.

Love without freewill is semantics holding no intrinsic value.

My parents have been married forty-two years. I wonder how many of those were happy.

Remember, your dad loves you and he always wanted more for you than he ever wanted for himself. And if he pushes your buttons, just tell yourself that he's a master at doing that because he's the one who installed them in the first place.

Te îndr?goste?ti de ea? - E prea devreme s? îmi dau seama.

Sara and I still find a way to talk for hours on the phone, or within the span of ten minutes somehow make it feel like it's been hours. Early in our relationship, when we lived apart for a time, we'd talk every night on the phone.

For between them, ex-husband and wife, some unspoken body of love has been laid to rest, and they stand awkwardly next to it now, regarding it in its coffin.