Quotes About Relationship

The wedding vows are a license to be a complete jerk, with full knowledge that the person you married has agreed, no matter how large a horse's ass you are, to stay by your side until death. A fool could tell you this is a bad deal.

Ciro took Enza's face in his hands. I have loved you all of my life. I was a boy who knew nothing, but when I met you, somehow I understood everything

Marriage is like working in a coal mine. You hack away in the dark, day after day, busting rock, and you think you're not getting anywhere, and then all of a sudden, this little sliver of sunlight appears and you say to yourself, oh, that's what I've been waiting for--just a little light, just a little bit of hope--a sign, maybe, that will get me through. And...it does.

Listen to me. Love yourself. That's the greatest adventure. When you love yourself, you want to find your purpose, something only you can do in the way only you can do it. Make things. Create. And if a man comes along—and believe me, he will—the relationship is already off to a good start because both of you love the same person. You. Lucky him.

For Ciro, Enza would sacrifice, fight to put food on the table, worry and fret over babies, and live life in full. She had only one life to share, and one heart to give the man who most deserved it. If she took Ciro on, she was in for a struggle compared to her life with Vito, but the love of all loves was worth it.

The intimacy. The deepest level of love. The knowledge that someone understands you, is rooting for you, is sharing your life.

He's no Ciro Lazzari. Honey, in the sweepstakes of the acquisition of handsome men, you got the golden ticket. The man you married is one in a million. But you know that.

It's never enough, Ciro. Never enough. Believe me, eventually, you run out of ways to make a woman happy.

A cold sentiment deserved a frigid end.

When you marry a man from your own village, you know how he salts his food.

You're a drunk, and it's no wonder your husband stays in West Virginia.

He said a man should always have to work hard to win a woman's heart, because when he gets it, it's worth it, and he'll never take it for granted.

There's nothing sad about loving someone so much that nothing makes sense without him. It's the definition of joy.

Without the Lord, the disciple no longer knows who he is.

the Son is perfectly glorified by being perfectly abandoned by the Father.

It is not as though God had no interest in our earthly concerns, but we ought to have even more interest in his.

In every enterprise is no greater evil than bad companionship.

Desde entonces a Eros y el pudor no se les volvió a ver juntos.

She had been wrong to think it wouldn't matter that much to him, yes, he took her for granted, of course he did , but he took her for granted - not like an old coat in the corner of a dark cupboard, as she'd put it to herself , but like the very air that he breathed .

If people can write to each other across space, why can they not write across time too?

All the time I think I can never love you more than I already do. And then you do something or say something, and I love you more than ever. Like just now. Like now. How is it possible? Can you love someone more and more and at the same time, all the time, love them as much as it's possible to love someone?

after all, she had birthed us alone, diapered and fed us, helped us with homework, kissed and hugged us, poured her love into us. That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.

He said, I always thought the woman I'd marry would hit me easy, in a bolt of lightning, and there is not lightning there is not even thunder there is not even rain.

He breathed in her hair, the sweet-smelling thickness of it. My father usually agreed with her requests, because stamped in his two-footed stance and jaw was the word Provider, and he loved her the way a bird-watcher's heart leaps when he hears the call of the roseate spoonbill, a fluffy pink wader, calling its lilting coo-coo from the mangroves. Check, says the bird-watcher. Sure, said my father, tapping a handful of mail against her back.