Quotes About Heartache

My second wife – I was still young then – she left me, and I made the mistake of winning her back. It took me years to lose her again after that.

But just as no one really knows what it is like to be a mother until she holds her first child, no one who hadn't felt the sudden loss of a child could ever even approximate the stabbing ache that came with every breath. I

Silent screams are the most gut-wrenching of all.

Although he knew their relationship had been toxic, he couldn't stop loving her.

I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have, and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

They claim a hidden corner of our hearts, all those moments that stay with us unscreamed. That's where loves, like elephants, drag themselves to die. It's the place where pride allows itself to cry.

It is always a fool's mistake, Didier once said to me, to be alone with someone you shouldn't have loved.

E' sempre un errore molto sciocco rimanere soli con qualcuno di cui non avresti mai dovuto innamorarti

At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread, of course, is that we won't stop loving them, even after they are dead and gone. For I still love you with the whole of my heart. I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread, of course, is that we won't stop loving them, even after they're dead and gone. For I still love you with the whole of my heart. I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

But she wasn't in love with me, she'd said, and she didn't want me to love her. Didier, trying to warn me, trying to help me or save me, perhaps, had said once that nothing grieves more deeply or pathetically than one half of a great love that isn't meant to be.

I couldn't understand the dark and trembling mood that was moving in me, swelling to the sorrow I'd too long denied, I couldn't understand it, so I tried to fight it as a man fights pain or despair. But you can't bite down on assassin grief, and will it away. The enemy stalks you, step for step, and knows your every move before you make it. The enemy is your own grieving heart and, when it strikes, it can't miss.

But I couldn't cry them, those tears, and I felt that I was drowning in a sorrow that was bigger than the heart that tried to hold it.

But already, like the people in the ghetto, hundreds of feet below, I was picking through the smashed houses in my heart, and rebuilding on the ruin.

Nothing grieves more deeply or pathetically than one-half of a great love that wasn't meant to be.

Nadie llore de forma más profunda o patética que la otra mitad de un gran amor que no está destinado a ser real. Nothing weeps more deeply or pathetically than one half of a great love that isn't meant to be.

This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is wicked distraction.

It is a good rule never to see or talk to the man whose words have wrung your heart, or helped it, just as it is wise not to look down too closely at the luminous glow which sometimes shines on your path on a summer night, if you would not see the ugly worm below.

I gave up coffee. It's almost worse than giving up a lover.

I don't think you could get anything worse than losing a child. I think if my child died, I would prefer it if I were dead.

Of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.

The idea of losing your best friend, basically, is the worst thing in world.

Man is born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over; but to have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have death renewed every morning; and life at that price is not worth living.