Quotes About Relationship

The difference between Loreda and her mother wasn't fear—they shared that. It was fire. Her mother's passion had gone out.

But now she saw what she had never dared to see before: this love of hers was one-sided. She was the one who took care; he was the one who took.

Conlan: "She's not Sophia." Angie: "She's somebody's Sophia.

Even if they didn't speak of their love, or share their feelings in long, heartfelt conversations, the bond was there. Sturdy.

is not biology that determines fatherhood. It is love.

she'd prayed for more children. It had been difficult between them—not a lot, but a little—when Rachel had gotten pregnant with Ari.

You were struggling to break free of being my daughter but unsure of how to be yourself, while I was afraid to let you go. It's the circle of love.

She had gone to him then, taken him in her arms and held him until he could breathe again. To her, it had been second nature, caring for him when he was hurting. But now she saw what she had never dared to see before: this love of hers was one-sided. She was the one who took care; he was the one who took.

what it felt like to curl up in bed against the same body every night for thirty years, to wake to the same loving face. He wanted to ask if love was a safe harbor or a stormy sea.

She'd heard it from him all her life; just once she wanted to hear him say that Mom should try harder. "I will," she said, completing their little fairy tale as she always did. And she would try. She always did, but she and her mother would never be close. There was just too much water under that bridge.

They were always doing that to each other, misinterpreting, imagining the worst. No wonder every conversation bruised one or the other.

But she wasn't an I. She was a we.

We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it - the dust, the drought, the fights with you - never once did I stop loving you or Ant or the farm.

But how did you do that? How did two people move backward through time and untie a knot that had tangled through every moment of their lives?

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. Never once in all of it—the dust, the drought, the fights with you

The smile he gave her was slow in forming, and when it came, she felt pain constrict her chest. Memories came at her in waves, surging over the breakwater she'd built in the isolated years. Him sweeping her into his arms, twirling her around; picking her up from a fall, dusting her off, whispering, Not so loud, my little terror, you'll wake your maman Ã¢â'¬Â¦

She was mad at the world, and somehow that meant she was mad at her mom most of all.

How was it possible that Elsa was close enough to her husband that she could feel the heat coming off him and smell the whiskey and cigarettes on his breath and still feel as if an ocean sloshed between them?

Time spent together created an intimacy that didn't quite spill over into friendship.

daughter had had a way of saying things that rubbed Nora the wrong way. More often than not, they both ended up saying something they regretted.

At six, she left Jack a note on the kitchen counter, just in case he got home before she did. It was a wasted gesture, of course. With his homing skills, she'd be through menopause by the time he found it.

They were at it again. Arguing. Shouting.

Or you, Papa," she said. "Or you.

taking their separate, lonely lives and braiding them into a rope of friendship.