When you smiled you had my undevided attention, when you laughed you had my urge to laugh
with you, when you cried you had my urge to hold you, when you said that you loved me you had my
heart forever.
"I'm not talking about love," he said hotly. "Not begging! Love shouldn't make a beggar
of one. I wouldn't want love if I had to beg for it. And I should despise it if anyone ever
begged for my love. Love is something that must be given - it can't be bought with words or pity,
or even reason. I shall never beg you. I love you. You must know that. I shall always love you."
My love fell unnoticed, like tears in the rain.
The hardest part of love is letting go.
People so seldom say I love you and then it's either too late or the moment goes. So when
I tell you I love you, it doesn't mean I know you'll never go, only that I wish you didn't have to.
It is my nature to join in love, not hate.
The tragic mistake is to assume that any treasure, object, or person must be possessed to
be loved.
You love somebody, and then you don't love them anymore. But if you really love somebody,
you always love them, don't you? Isn't there always some small part of you that reads their
horoscope in the paper everyday?
If you love, and most needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a
running brook that sings its melody to the night; To know the pain of too much tenderness; To
be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully; To wake at
dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and
meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a
prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
You know, there are fours words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words.
"Good night, sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up
those four words is a guy I want to stay with.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not loved, I am only a resounding
gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all
knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not loved, I am nothing. If I
give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not loved, I gain
nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will
cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When
I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully
known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Love one another, but make no bond of love; Let it rather be a moving sea between the
shores of your soul. Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup. Give one another of
your bread, but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each
one of you be alone.
To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk
failure, but risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The word 'love' was but a parody of something forgotten a long time ago; something that would
remain forever locked within the labyrinths of antiquity; a loss to the world.
Her face was troubled when she looked at him. "Do not fall in love with me," she said
softly. "I am not what I seem."
I love you for what I am not.
You don't want to be loved, you just love being wanted.
There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more crazy about each other,
especially when you're the only other person in the room. It's like watching Paris from an
express caboose heading in the opposite direction - every second the city gets smaller and
smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier,
rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.
May the love hidden deep inside your heart find the love waiting in your dreams. May the
laughter that you find in your tomorrow wipe away the pain you find in your yesterdays.
If we don't feel love with our heart, then how come that's where it hurts when someone
doesn't love you back?
We see those we love in every sunrise and in every sunset; in ever tree and in every flower.
I am not one of those who do not believe in love at first sight. But I believe in taking
a second look!
Many a woman borrows a man's heart; very few could possess it.
Sometimes I feel there's a hole inside of me: an emptiness that at times seems to burn.
I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you probably could hear the ocean. And the moon
tonight has a circle around it, a sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole,
not going to bed each night wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets
sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to
love me. I want to be seen.
Where love reigns, the impossible may be attained.
Tonight, I will learn to love you twice.
You are fed with love. At first, hunger is not wrong.
Never loving ourselves, hating even our shoes and our hats, we love each other,
precious, precious.
Yesterday, I did not want to be borrowed, but this is the typewriter that sits before me,
and love is where yesterday is at.
I promise to love more if they come because, in spite of cruelty, and the stuffed railroad
cars for the ovens, I am not what I expected.
I look for uncomplicated hymns, but love has none.
To love another is something like prayer, and can't be planned, you just fall into its
arms because our belief undoes your disbelief.
Blond lady, do you love us, love us, love us? As I love America, you might mutter, before
you fall asleep.
We are all singing, as in a holiday, and then you start to cry, you fall down into a huddle,
you are sick. What do we do? Do we kiss you to make it better? No. No. We all walk softly
away. We would stay and be the nurse, but there are too many of us and we are too worried to help.
It is love that walks away, and yet we have terrible mouths and soft milk hands. We worry with
like. We walk away with love.
To be not loved is the human condition.
Love begot love, and the child, when she peeked out, did not hate herself back then.
Funny, funny, love what you do. But today, I roam a dead house.
And I don't know, don't know if we belong together or apart, except that my soul lingers
over the skin of you, and I wonder if I'm ruining all we had.
I love you the way the oboe plays. I love you the way skinny dipping makes my body feel.
Yet, I fear you, as one in the desert fears the sun. Yet, love enters my blood like an I.V.,
dripping in its little white moments.
She believes that love is a sacrifice. The part describes her death and she is never
named, which is one of the things you could not stand about her.
She will not know why she is here or what she is prisoner of, if not the conditions of
love that brought her to this.
Love brings the high and concealed characteristics of the lover into the light - what is rare
and exceptional in him. . .
In the end one loves one's desire and not what is desired.
The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye. The story of love is hello and
goodbye, until we meet again.
You just have to be patient and pray your boyfriend wakes up and smells the coffee.
Yeah, too bad he likes tea.
When we fall in love with someone there's a moment when we take a picture of that person,
an emotional snapshot that we carry with us forever. If we're lucky, very, very lucky, the person
we fall in love with will always resemble that snapshot.
Unless it's mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too
many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn't be one of them.
. . . he'd like to pick her up and carry her back to his house and keep her there, maybe
forever. But if she wanted something from him first, like maybe for him to climb to the heavens,
pick up a dozen or so stars, string them together, and hang them in her bedroom, he thought he
would like to know so he could start tying ladders together.
Somewhere, somehow, it should be possible to touch someone and never let go again. To hold
someone, not for a moment but forever.
When our hearts first drink the golden nectar of love, it keeps on drinking until it
drowns itself.
