Quotes About Love

Love is the feedback cycle of longing, belonging, loss.

There are consolations that the strongest human love is powerless to give. (page 330)

The bird and the fish may fall in love but where will they build their nest?

Love was long over, but what was lost to him he still loved so harshly that it prevented him from listening even to its trace.

That's the ruling story on this planet. We live suspended between love and ego. Maybe it's different in other galaxies. But I doubt it.

All the good things in her came into us. Now we keep her alive, with whatever we can remember

But the need for justice is like ownership or love. Feeding it only makes it grow.

Culture) Some part of us could model some other modeler. and out of that simple loop came all the love and culture, the ridiculous overflow of gifts.

What you love more than your own life must finally belong to you. What you come to know, better than you know your own way home, is yours.

I didn't know how to be a parent. Most of what I did, I remembered from what she used to do. I made enough mistakes on any one day to scar him for life. My only hope was that all the errors somehow canceled each other out.

Love, as all the good novels know, is a question of title, deed, and possession.

We'll live and trade and make deals and have love affairs, all in symbol space. The world will be a game, with on-screen scores. And all this?" He waves, as people do on phones, even knowing Chris can't see him. "All the things you say people really want? Real life? Soon we won't even remember how it used to go.

And she takes him like someone who's sure that life has need of her.

You're the last bearable thing left to me, aside from death.

I love your smell, she said. I told her, "You don't love me. You love my microbiome.

They form in front of him: his friend, his wife, his daughter. People who loved him, who believed he'd do good things. In the mild April mist, he thinks: All I ever wanted was to make one slight noise that might delight you all. How small a thought it took. How small a thought.

He says there's nothing on Earth he can give to her, for their anniversary, to thank her for what she has given him. Nothing, except for a thing that grows.

L'amore è un ciclo di feedback dal desiderio alla condivisione, alla perdita. Un moto anti-hebbiano: le attivazioni si fanno sempre più fiacche. (p.243)

In the dark-paneled courtroom, her words come out of hiding. Love for trees pours out of her—the grace of them, their supple experimentation, the constant variety and surprise.

There are consolations that the strongest human love is powerless to give.

In the dark, she asks, What are you thinking? He's thinking that his life has reached its zenith, this very day. That he has lived to see everything he wants. Lived to see himself happy.

People have sex with strangers. People marry strangers. People spend half a century in bed together and wind up strangers at the end.

People, God love 'em, must write all over beeches. But some people—some fathers—are written all over by trees.

People who still love words have to be forgiven everything.