Quotes About Love

Men are trouble" "Amen to that." Peach said. "You were happily married for fifty years," Miz June said, "I don't understand why you are agreeing." "He Left Me." Peach said "He DIED." "Same thing.

Because what is more like love than the ocean? You can play in it, drown in it. It can be clear and bright enough to hurt your eyes, or covered in fog; hidden behind a curve of road, and then suddenly there in full glory. Its waves come like breaths, in and out, in and out, body stretched to forever in its possibilities, and yet its heart lies deep, not fully knowable, inconceivably majestic.

A human heart is the size of two hands clasped together. Imagine your own hands joined, or your hand in someone else's, because that is what hands are for, and what hearts are for: holding each other. This can be very, very hard to remember when hearts have been so broken.

Love is corny, when you get right down to it. It has two left feet. It trips over itself, because it is so large that it's awkward. It's sort of silly, done right. After all, how do you convey something that huge?

I kept trying to talk myself out of my second thoughts when they were trying to help me. My advice? When it comes to relationships, second thoughts should be promoted.

It doesn't matter if we're young. If you love someone, and it's right...We can make it the whole way, Crick.

Adultery often happens, I am sure, because you are on a sinking ship, and you need to leap but can't leap. You are too spineless, maybe, to leap.The water is too dark and choppy and the sea is too large. Saving your own life, even, isn't enough reason to jump- no, you need the hands at your back, pushing, the hands of something as unavoidable and inevitable and imperative as love.It's got to be something that big, you know, to get you to jump.

You have the ability to just go on and forget people and how much they are meant, but I don't. You can people in their own little boxes and leave them there. So much for love. So much for soul mates. I'm sorry you don't want to believe the best or how I can change. You put a stake through the heart. I'm the only one who cared enough to suffer like this.

Shakti always said we should have a guy we wanted to keep shaving our legs for. I knew what she meant." pg. 129

I always seemed to forget that needing your mother and getting what you needed from your mother were separate but neighboring planets.

I guess I was inching and crawling my way toward Elizabeth Bennett's words about unconditional love. That it was a dangerous thing without heavy doses of mutual respect.

And I make a little vow then, to myself. To not let the backs and forths of forgiveness interrupt the steadiness of love.

My father, Bobby Oates*, said that love at first sight should send you running, if you know what's good for you. It's your dark pieces having instant recognition with their dark pieces, he says. You're an idiot if you think it means you've met your soul mate. So I was an idiot. He looked so nice. He was so nice.

Life and our love for others is a balancing act, I understand then; a dance between our instinct to be safe and hold fast, and our drive to flee, to run - from danger, toward new places to feed ourselves.

One thing you can say about daughters and mothers—like it or not, they know the truth about each other.

Dad was a writer down to his cells, and he loved metaphors. Everything was a metaphor. Your dirty laundry could be one. Unexpected encounters with dog shit, definitely.

Love doesn't seem to follow a plan; it's not a series of steps. It can hit with the force of nature - an earthquake, a tidal wave, a storm of wild, relentless energy that is beyond your simple attempts at control.

True love, even if just in your head, can make you forget how badly things actually suck.

I've always felt that a heart is meant to be given to only one person at a time. And, too, when it moves on, it moves on for good.

You've got an in-love feeling, but the relationship is damaging. When do you stop calling it love?

It's amazing, the communal sharing. But the sexist religious stuff . . . Not a fan, Annabelle, not a fan. Male managed. The women walk behind the men. 'Working for each other is the highest command of love.' Working for each other, or for him, Mr. King Big Man walking ahead? Equality and respect are the highest command of love.

Love was such a delicate thing, requiring tissue-paper touch and the safest place, yet there it was out in the real world, where it got battered by storms of ill will and bad circumstances and demons of your own or of other people. Love didn't stand a chance.

Her look was easy to read—she couldn't understand, we'd always been able to talk, she was hurt. Mothers can give all of that to you in one brief look.

Love must be more about power than we think, if even in its most intimate moment of expression we think about not being the one who risks the most.