Quotes About Heartache

There's always that one person that will always have your heart You never see it coming cause you're blinded from the start Know that you're that one for me, it's clear for everyone to see Ooh baby, you will always be my boo

I failed her. And she's out of my life. I don't even know where she's living. What she's doing to get through the days. And I miss her. Every single day, I miss her.

I miss you so much, I can't stand it Feels like my heart is breaking in two My head says no, but my soul demands it And everything I do, reminds me of you

Claudine tells me there was fluid around Bolombe's heart. That the stress of his capture was too much. I always thought hearts were broken, but apparently they drown.

I am not crying, but have tears in my heart.

C'est bien la pire peines De ne savoir pourquoi Sans amour et sans haine Mon coeur a tant de peine !

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.

But when I do feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I think I cry, then, or at least I want to, and everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.

You love her without willing it or wanting it, and that is the most exquisite pain of all.'

Miss me?" he whispered, giving me the once-over, eyes lingering on my chest. My heart skipped a beat. My glyph pulsed painfully. "Like a urinary tract infection," I said, through gritted teeth.

Before my mother's death, I sat anywhere. Now I look for the image of the empty chair near the image of the empty table. An image of me sits down. Depression is a glove over the heart. Depression is an image of a glove over the image of a heart.

I know the heart doesn't really shatter, but I also can no longer feel it.

Handsome husbands often make a wife's heart ache.

Peppercorn is black and so is the beauty mark of the moon-faces -both rend the heart, yet between them lie enormous spaces

Yes, I have loved, Ms. Lane, and although it's none of your business, I have lost. Many things.

... I looked through the car's rear window for a final wave, and it felt like someone had invaded my chest and squeezed all the juice out of my heart until it was a tiny dry sponge.

Death says a million words that the heart can't pen.

I've loved someone since I was seventeen but I can't have him and I can't give him up. So until I can do that no one else will stand a chance.

Robert Louis Stevenson, sung by Bryn Terfel: Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand.

I became educated to the fact that the greatest pain does not come zooming down from a distant planet, but from the depths of the heart. Of course, both could happen; your wife and child could leave you, and you could be sitting alone in your empty house with nothing to live for, and in addition the Martians could bore through the roof and get you.

Why is love so good...? You love someone and they leave. They come home one day and you say What's happening? and they say, I got a better offer someplace else, and there they go, out of your life forever, and after that until you're dead you're carrying around this huge hunk of love with no one to give it to. And if you do find someone to give it to, the same thing happens all over.

She took his hand, squeezed it, held it, and then, all at once, she let it drop. But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away.

And you can't feel grief unless you've had love before it—grief is the final outcome of love, because it's love lost.