Quotes About Relationship

When I began to realize how often we quarrelled, how often I picked on her with nervous irritation, I became aware that our love was doomed: love had turned into a love-affair with a beginning and an end.

I'm only saying I want you to be happy. I hate your being unhappy. I don't mind anything you do that makes you happy. You just want an excuse. If I sleep with anybody else, you feel you can do the same - any time. That's neither here nor there. I want you to be happy, that's all. You'd make my bed for me? Perhaps.

But if I start believing that, then I have to believe in your God. I'd have to love your God. I'd rather love the men you slept with.

There's nothing discreditable about jealousy, Mr Bendrix. I always salute it as the mark of true love.

The hurt is in the act of possession: we are too small in mind and body to possess another person without pride or to be possessed without humiliation.

Married people grow like each other.

She always harboured my criticism: it was only praise that slid from her like the snow.

Human love can be only a pale reflection of the emotion that God must feel for what He has created

They had to tread carefully for a lifetime, never speak without thinking twice: they must watch each other like enemies because they loved each other so much. They would never know what it was not to be afraid of being found out. It occurred to him that perhaps after all one could atone even to the dead if one suffered for the living enough.

I want ordinary corrupt human love

Once for five minutes seven years ago they had been lovers—if you could give that name to a relationship in which she had never used his baptismal name: to her it was just an incident, a scratch which heals completely in the healthy flesh: she was even proud of having been the priest's woman. He alone carried a wound, as though a whole world had died.

At the end of what is called the sexual life the only love which has lasted is the love which has everything, every disappointment, every failure and every betrayal, which has accepted even the sad fact that in the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship.

and I took her words as an insult and walked straight out and down the stairs and into the street. Is this the end, I wondered, playacting to myself? There's no need ever to go back. If I can get her out of my system, can't I find somewhere a quiet friendly marriage that would go on and on? Then perhaps I wouldn't feel jealous because I wouldn't love enough: I would just be secure, and my self-pity and hatred walked hand in hand across the darkening Common like idiots without a keeper.

I love you. I am your father and I love you. Try to understand that.

She loved him whatever that meant but love was not an eternal

Perhaps soon the two of them would grow accustomed to each other and guilt would come to eat out of his hand.

and heads close together like parrots

Loving God isn't any different from loving a man- or a child. It's wanting to be with Him, to be near Him.' He made a hopeless gesture with his hands. 'It's wanting to protect Him from yourself.

Because I couldn't bear the thought of her so much as touching another man, I feared it all the time, and I saw intimacy in the most casual movement of her hand.

It would be better if I called you,' she told me, and caution, I thought, caution, how well she knows how to conduct an affair like this, and I remembered again the stair that always - 'always' was the phrase she had used -squeaked.

Even a happy marriage is a thing of slow growth; love helps to make imperceptible the imprisonment of a man

Looking at her over my whisky I thought how odd it was that felt no desire for her at all. It was as if quite suddenly after all the promiscuous years I had grown up. My passion for Sarah had killed simple lust for ever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.

After all, he liked me. That was a claim he could never fail to honour because it astonished him.

It was typical of Dr Hasselbacher that after fifteen years of friendship he still used the prefix Mr—friendship proceeded with the slowness and assurance of a careful diagnosis. On Wormold's death-bed, when Dr Hasselbacher came to feel his failing pulse, he would perhaps become Jim.