Broken Heart Quotes - Page 3

Love happens only once, and the second time is always a compromise made to forget the first love.

There are some moments you won't completely heal from, those rare ones you will take torn open to the grave but throughout all the big moments that shake you up there will be countless tiny experiences that help you laugh all over again.

When something's fallen apart as many times as usI can't put it back together, it's not the same

when will it stopthe painthat darknessthat that thatthat part of methat was or Y-O-U!why can't you fill itwhy did u leavewhy why why?love hurtsbut so does life

Love?! When a piece of broke heart hits you.

But even a vessel pulsates, beats and pumps in ecstasy and in rage!I wonder are the way we are because we are trying to protect ourselves from the “monsters” not realizing this fear that we are harboring inside us is turning us into goblins and ghouls ourselves? Not even a heart caged inside of ribs can be protected. Who can really be to blame for your broken heart?In-turn we find our own vices , our own ways to cope, ways that we petrify our bodies our lives in such a fashion so we can stop and notice the stars sparkling in the sky everything and everyone that embodies love YOUR LOVE… and every spec dancing in our own light, specs we failed to see because of our own faults.

Sharp are the arrows of a broken heart.

I didn’t love you to seek revenge.I didn’t love you out of loneliness or unhappiness.I didn’t love you for any of the misguided reasons that time might convince you I did.I just loved you because you’re you.

She remembered the day vividly, for how can you forget the day your heart is broken? The funny thing about a broken heart is that it's not fatal. Though you wish in vain that it were, life continues on and you have no choice but to continue on with it. You take the hand that fate has dealt you and you press forward because there is nothing else that can be done.

It’s painful, loving someone from afar.Watching them – from the outside.The once familiar elements of their life reduced to nothing more than occasional mentions in conversations and faces changing in photographs…..They exist to you now as nothing more than living proof that something can still hurt you … with no contact at all.

Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another, "I want to know why!

I love you in my very own way.Like a stone loves the mosses around itLike a sea loves the pebbles in itLike a coincidence...Taking you as the way you are,With all the bruises, scars and broken parts all around you and your heart.I love you in my very own wayBy throwing the stone, the mosses, the sea and the pebbles to your headLike i want to kill you.Just because of envying the love That my heart spend on you.

I felt I was drawing close to that age, that place in life, where you realize one day what you'd told yourself was a Zen detachment turns out to be naked fear. You'd had one serious love relationship in your life and it had ended in tragedy, and the tragedy had broken something inside you. But instead of trying to repair the broken place, or at least really stop and look at it, you skated and joked. You had friends, you were a decent citizen. You hurt no one. And your life was somehow just about half of what it could be.

Loving for the second time isn’t sweet; it’s bitter, and hurt more than the first.

I just can’t do it anymore. It’s too painful. It doesn't mean I’m over you, it means I’m not going to waste the rest of my life being haunted by your memory.

She dumped me for the worst reason of all. For absolutely no reason at all...I mean, if she fell in love with someone else, or I did something wrong, or I let her down in some unforgivable way...That, I'd understand, right? But instead, she said...it wasn't anything. Not a single thing. It was just me. I was nice. I was kind. We just...she didn't see the connection anymore. I think she thought I was boring. And the cruelest part is, when someone says something mean about you, you know when they're right.

From attraction and affectionCover of perfectionFailure beyond texture to a painful lessonEverything that was from the start wasn't from the heart

He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

I think about you. But I don't say it anymore.

It was a miserable thing, to be responsible for breaking your own heart.

A hundred years ago, people had perfectly understood that you could die of a broken heart, now they thought you were making a fuss about nothing…Certain kinds of suffering are like radiation: they cause furious growth and mutation of the inner self.

Even the most beautiful of the starsare taken for grantednight after night.

Emotional illiterates, who don’t recognize the sound of a broken heart, will never be able to hear the subtle vibrations of love reverberating through the rustling flora of life. ("Love as dizzy as a cathedral”)

A broken heart in real life isn't half as dreadful as it is in books. It's a good deal like a bad tooth, though you won't think THAT a very romantic simile. It takes spells of aching and gives you a sleepless night now and then, but between times it lets you enjoy life and dreams and echoes and peanut candy as if there were nothing the matter with it.

You’re like the broken chapter of my favorite story.

May the Lord revive the crushed spirit.

I don’t think you ever really understood….…. All the love I had in the world went to you.

For a brokenhearted person memories are the vital parts of misery

Roxy was my breath of fresh air. My soft place to land. She was home to me.

The only place I ever felt at home was with you. There isn’t a place for me anywhere anymore… I’ve been evicted.

There’s only so much you can watch someone sacrifice before you realize they’re changing who they are for you, and not in a good way.

A wounded heart needs aloof.

When the heart hurts, tears find their way.

There are many types of pain. The only one that aspirin won't help is a hurting heart. That's why there is alcohol.

Boys have a rap sheet of breaking women's heart!!

Long ago, there was a dream within a dream that allowed joy to reign, but that youthful breath drifted away as swiftly as a summer rain. There was nothing left after the dawn, except for a world darkened by a King’s broken heart. Now only Morpheus induced silhouettes dance in these lightless plains. They dance in sequence to the sound of time – unmoved by existence – trapped in a single thought I hope lies within you.

Heaven doesn't ignore cries of a broken heart.

There is no better place to heal a broken heart than on the back of a horse.

It is easier to wipe a thousand tears from your eyes than to wipe a single tear from your soul.

It is only with true love and compassion that we can begin to mend what is broken in the world. It is these two blessed things that can begin to heal all broken hearts.

It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life…But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday….….. and you’ll erase me completely.

Father, be near as we are surrounded by this cloud of deep suffering. Open our eyes to see that you are all things, the light and the darkness, not only those things that seem good in our eyes, but the horrifying unexplainable. Wrap us up inside of the cloud and reveal the mysteries that can only be learned in places of sorrow, that when we walk out we will be as Moses, transformed by the shadow and beaming with the radiant light of your glory. Give us the strength to love on, though our hearts are broken.

You don't need to hold them, Just let them choose if they want to stay or be free.You're not a rope,You're a magnet.

I raised you so high that every other man on earth is now doomed to live in your shadow.

Not all scars show, not all wounds heal. Often we don't see, the pain someone feels.A broken heart is like having broken ribs.No one can see but hurts everytime you breathe.

Is that what you meant when you said the more you love a person the harder your heart breaks?

All the times are best whenever you are with me.

Every time you rip the bandages off, you just open the wound up again. Every time he sees you, it's like tearing off the bandages.

I love the way you refuse my love.

Your dress is thin, you have been dancing, you are heated." "Always preaching," retorted she; "always coddling and admonishing." The answer Dr. John would have given did not come; that his heart was hurt became evident in his eye; darkened, and saddened, and pained, he turned a little aside, but was patient.

She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.

She'd always thought that a broken heart sounded rather romantic. But in truth it was physical. Her whole chest ached, as if she'd been struck with a knife. With all her witless calculations about how to make a man desire her, she'd never realized that the most important thing was to make him like her. Or even love her. What a fool she was.

.theres much more important things..

Relationship are like glasses, once it's broken it never be like before, as broken glass remain with the broken piece stains ever...

I would have followed you to hell and back... if only you'd lead me back.

The way you treat me babyCheat and tell me liesI guess I shouldn't care at allBut still I sympathize'cause you got heart troubleComing onYeah you got heart trouble coming onWell you think that you don't need me babyBut you're gonna miss me when I'm gone

My heart is broken and I grieve, for I have known love. Your heart is broken and you grieve, for you have not.

You couldn’t make someone love you with a rune, and you couldn’t assuage grief with it either. So much magic, Clary thought, and nothing to mend a broken heart.

If someone were to autopsy her heart, they'd find traces of life, evidence of eons gone by. Times when she'd been able to feel and the feelings left imprints. Maybe her heart was wearing a cast. Maybe it wasn't sclerosed at all but atrophied, shrunken, and the cast enclosing it was scribbled over with stories written in a dead language. Was there any softness left in there? Any spot that was still unfired, unformed, unglazed? Was there access? Entry? A place still open to impression? No. Her heart was finished. It bore, perhaps, records of life, but it wasn't alive. Too late for decoration. Too late for effects. Further handling could only result in cracks and fractures. People could cut themselves on the edges of her heart, she was sure of it.

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what's been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.And so I did.Sophie Lenon