Quotes About Relationship

Gauvin reprit : -Et la femme? qu'en faites-vous? Cimourdain répondit: -Ce qu'elle est. La servante de l'homme. -Oui. À une condition. -Laquelle? -C'est que l'homme sera le serviteur de la femme. -Y penses-tu? s'écria Cimourdain, l'homme serviteur! Jamais. L'homme est maître . Je n'admet qu'une royauté, celle du foyer. L'homme chez lui est roi. -Oui. À une condition. -Laquelle? -C'est que la femme y sera reine.

Ma bouche n'avait pas dit une chose que deja ton coeur avait repondu.

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction of being loved for yourself or more correctly being loved in spite of yourself.

The boughs, without becoming detached from the trunk grow away from it.

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved. Few people dare say nowadays that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet that is the way love begins, and only that way. The rest is only the rest, and comes afterwards. Nothing is more real than the great shocks that two souls give each other in exchanging this spark.

So bring me this man, trembling and shivering from head to foot; let me fall into his arms or down at his knees; he will weep and we shall weep, he will be eloquent and I shall be comforted, and my heart shall melt into his, he will take my soul, and I his God. But what is this kindly old gentleman to me? And what am I to him? Just one more member of the race of unfortunates, one more shade to go with the many he has seen, one more figure to add to his total of executions.

When those we love are in question, our prudence invents every sort of madness.

He plainly perceived this truth, the basis of his life henceforth, that so long as she should be alive, so long as he should have her with him, he should need nothing except for her, and fear nothing save on her account.

Which of the two was the victim of the other?

What is the cat? he exclaimed. It is a corrective. The good God, having made the mouse, said: 'Hullo! I have committed a blunder.' And so he made the cat. The cat is the erratum of the mouse. The mouse, plus the cat, is the proof of creation revised and corrected.

Ladies, a second piece of advice--do not marry; marriage is a graft; it may take hold or not. Shun the risk.

Thenardier had just passed his fiftieth birthday; Madame Thenardier was approaching her forties, which is equivalent to fifty in a woman; so that there existed a balance of age between husband and wife.

she imagined that her mother's soul had passed into this good man and had come to live close by her.

When Cosette went out with him, she leaned on his arm, proud, happy, her heart full to overflowing. Jean

One hardly dares to say, nowadays, that two beings fell in love because they looked at each other. That is the way people do fall in love, nevertheless, and the only way.

There are some men apparently born to be the reverse of the coin; their name is a continuation, and is never written except preceded by the conjunction and. Their existence is not their own.

Dumnezeu nu poate d?rui fericirii celor care se iubesc decât o durat? f?r? cap?t. Dup? o via?? de dragoste, o eternitate de dragoste, da, e o întregire. Dar nici lui Dumnezeu nu-i e cu putin?? s? fac? ceva mai mare decât fericirea des?vârÈ™it? pe care o d? sufletului iubirea. Dumnezeu e împlinirea în cer. Dragostea e împlinirea omului.

Tous étant sourds pour lui, il n'avait pas été sourd pour elle

The love, it comes in the beginning of her life and at the end of yours. God is cruel that way.

She whispered in his ear. "Tell my sister I asked about her. We parted badly." He smiled. "I am constantly arguing with my brother, even in war. In the end, we're brothers.

No sorries. We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it. Tears, anger, joy, struggle. Mostly, it's durable. It lasts.

Mama gave a tired laugh. Leni understood. You could be as careful as a chemist with nitroglycerin around dad. It wouldn't change a thing. Sooner or later, he was going to blow.

She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, or when, but distance seemed to be spreading between them like spilled ink, staining everything.

The father who went off to war was not the one who came home. She had tried to be loved by him; more important, she had tried to keep loving him, but in the end, one was as impossible as the other.