Quotes About Complexity

To really know someone is to have loved and hated him in turn

It is impossible to love and to be wise.

Love is like a Rubix Cube, there are countless numbers of wrong twists and turns, but when you get it right, it looks perfect no matter what way you look at it

Nice people don't necessarily fall in love with nice people.

Marriage is like pi - natural, irrational, and very important.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

Sometimes the villain becomes a victim

Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

He consumed me in a different way- the way his eyes made everything jump inside of me when I looked into them, his laughter, temper, the way he sometimes struggled for words, the way his jaw twitched when he was angry, the thoughtful way he listened to me, his incredible restraint and resolve in the face of overwhelming odds. When I looked at him, I saw the easygoing farmer he could have been, but I also saw the soldier and prince that he was.

I wished that love could be simple, that it was always given and returned in the same measure, equally and at the same time, that all the planets aligned in a perfect way to dispel all doubts, that it was easy to understand and never painful.

I decide that sometimes definitions are wrong. Even if they're written in a dictionary. Identities aren't always separate and distinct. Sometimes they ARE wrapped up with others. Sometimes, for a few minutes, maybe they can even be shared. And if I am ever fortunate enough to return to Mr. Bender's garden, I wonder if the birds will see that piece of him that is wrapped up in me.

Did he even know what love was? For that matter, did I? Even my parents didn't seem to know. I crossed my arms behind my head as a pillow. Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

Love didn't even seem like the right word to explain how I felt about her. The word seemed too small, too used, too simple,

Vielleicht gab es nicht nur eine einzige Art, Liebe zu definieren. Vielleicht hatte die Liebe so viele Schattierungen wie das Blau am Himmel.

Love didn't even seem like the right word to explain how I felt about her. The word seemed too small, too used, too simple, and everything I felt about her seemed complicated and rare as wide as the world.

Love . . . It's a nice little trick if you can find it. We had found it. But now I knew finding love and holding on to it were not the same thing.

At times she had thought that this was the only kind of connection you could have with people—intense, inexplicable and ultimately incomplete.

There are no pure people.

Perhaps it is the intrusion of sexuality that marks the end of precision.

This look said I was uncomfortably near some line. Nikos had a lot of lines, all hidden. If you shot a marble in on one side of his personality, instead of coming out the other it would bounce on secret internal walls and shoot out in some unpredictable way. I suspected some of those ways were deadly.

I say every dog looks like no other but that isn't true. Not entirely. Difference is slippery.

Yes, she's electric and yes, she's a monster at times.

Tragedy is simpler than uncertainty. Not easier, but simpler.

But gratitude would not have me love you as I do. Love was inspired by what you are - the good, the bad, and even the foolish, which is what you're being right now.