Quotes About Love

We never spoke of it but we knew that to come within the orbit of each other's skin-scent and cellular hum could end only one way: falling helplessly, spectacularly into the other's gravity well, momentarily brilliant like all falling stars, but doomed, because I loved Rose. And this friendship was too precious to burn.

He's kind, yes, but he will hurt you nonetheless, because he will leave. This is not his place. You've only to look in his eyes.

More than once, they wrapped in furs and cloaks and walked through the garden in the moonlight, still talking. Sometimes they just walked in silence, and Marghe thought she could hear Thenike's heart.

I love to feel the sun rub against my pale northern skin, love its fingers reaching down into muscle and bone.

That lass is yours. Protect her.

It was the kind of kitchen where a lot of family conversations happen.

Her tenderness was unbearable. She was nine years old. She knew how to kiss me better: a simple thing, but one I could never have taught her. And I had come here to save her.

And when she, too, goes back to her mother, cheeks blooming fresh with wild roaming, her mother weeps and begs her to stay close, stay safe-for the girl is hers, her gift, her treasure, her payment, all she has-but the girl feels her growing strength; she must run, she must climb, she must test her power.

Her skin felt marvellously alive beneath mine. We moved back and forth, and my belly warmed, and I knew hers warmed, too, as we revolved around the gym and each other, a planet and each other, a planet and its satellite turning about the sun.

I can't tell you what is right," she said, "but I can tell you what is expected by others, and by this child. It doesn't matter what she calls you. Mom or Tante or Aud, if legally you are her mother, somewhere inside she will expect you to behave as one. It doesn't matter if this is likely, or even possible, it is what she will expect.

Her childhood, her life, and she kept forgetting; her mother's geas kept taking it away. Then she was thinking of her mother, seeing her in the clearing on one of her good days, forget-me-not eyes dancing with light. Mother? She listened. Nothing.

Always know what they like, her mother said. They will love you for it.

Gwladus smiled, that rich slow curve that blotted out everything but right here, right now, then leaned in and kissed her.

She loved the firm pressure of Gwladus's hand on her crown, the steady strokes of the brush, and the scent of dried lavender and spicy tansy rising from her skirts.

Gwenhwyfar looked at her husband and quivered like a leashed hound with the scent.

No one but a lover should ever see such an expression, and then only fleetingly, yet here it was, captured forever.

She held out her hands and we hugged. I remembered when she used to engulf me. Now I was an inch or two taller, though her bone and muscle still felt like granite.

She watched her mother, and Begu, and Gwladus, and felt, for the first time in an age, at home and ordinary.

She looked him in the eye, the eyes she'd seen wide with lust, not with tears, shining with joy.

We both love her, as we love each other. We will not set her aside.

Her own sea-grey with green to his sea-green with grey.

They reckon you feel love in your heart but that's bollocks. True love, the type what strikes you down and makes you change for ever, you feel that kind of love in every fucking organ inside you.

True love, the type that strikes you down and makes you change forever, you feel that kind of love in every f*****g organ inside you. Liver, kidneys, heart, and spleen. Every tiny cell what makes up your brain and your spine, your bones and blood and muscles. It keens through you.

Many love humanity only in order to forget God with a clear conscience.