Love Quotes - Page 129

The world can be a great big scary place,and finding a soul mate is no simple task.But if you’re lucky enough to do just that,sometimes that’s all that you need: one personto belong to—who also belongs to you.

...because there will never be any boy's wrist to tie the balloon of your helium heart to (it has floated high far away from the heavy stone of that unnameable boy in chicago), you would never be with someone and then someone else, and you would definitely never be someone to someone else's else.

Sad, slow music in the small hours of the morning isn't just sad and slow music. It's a narration. And through the myriad of morning dew, we are the twinkling stars that fade with the rising sun.

Love is a flame of light.

A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.

The physicality between us was like nothing I’d experienced before. Just the brush of his fingertips over my cheek was enough to make me feel undressed and naked. “I don’t know,” I answered. “What do you suggest? Culture, entertainment, or the underground car park in Tottenham Court Road?

[T]he truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

You’re insane,” I told him, and stood up to dress.He hugged me from behind, pressing hard against me, rubbing his smooth chest along my back. He spoke into my ear, “Insane for you, my love.

Practically all girls are capable of pulling off theLady Love stunt before marriage but alas, only toomany of them think a wedding ring gives them theright to flop down on the do-nothing stool, get fatand eat onions... When a man see his beauteous pride slouching around the house in a soiled house-coat with cold cream on her face, he feels he gotcheated at the altar.Too often after the first baby, [women] ceasebeing wives and are only mothers... giving all theirtenderness to Junior and letting poor husband goheart-hungry.

Hope is like a beautiful flower. If we take great care of our hope, life could be a beautiful garden.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of Love. Along that river is the tree of heaven.

We play and tease, but―darn it―he has not dragged me into the rain and kissed me senseless yet. And that's how it's supposed to happen. I know; I read romance novels.

When you realise you are just as ridiculous & just as #special as everyone else, you love them all.

Celebrate people irrespective of their status or position

God knew man would evolve. People think some of the Old Testament laws are absurd now because we live in a very different culture, a different time period. They had their problems and we have ours. God is constant but man is not, and he foreknew the ever-changing world his people would have to deal with; therefore, and if there is indeed an omniscient God, a Christ-like figure would be our only rational, possible connection to a constant, holy God throughout the evolution of culture and social law. The only answer that makes sense when it comes to relevance regarding religions and time periods is Christ, and the chances are slim that men could have invented it.

Mara, that's the life I want to give you. That's what I'm offering you. I want to fill you life with color and warmth. I want to fill it with light. Give me a chance

Don't just create art to make money. Make money so you can create more art. (Exchange any words you want for 'create art' and see if it fits).

Love consists in desiring to give what is our own to another and feeling his delight as our own

He regretted nothing. Not the way she’d felt in his arms and not the way he’d felt in hers.

It had made her too helpless, because that's what love did. There was no way around it and no way to fight it. Now if she lost, she lost everything.

Don’t let the tide of life shift you away, move intentionally in the right direction

I miss more loving someone so deeply that I can't imagine a forever without her kisses.

I would rather have someone say they hate me and mean it, than have someone say they love me and not.

Tis the moment where a decision is set to alter the course of her destiny. She walks toward the light where he patiently awaits her arrival.

as long as we are being remembered, we remain alive

Gossip reduces the other to he/she, and this reduction is intolerable to me. For me the other is neither he nor she; the other has only a name of his own, or her own name. The third-person pronoun is a wicked pronoun: it is the pronoun of the non-person, it absents, it annuls. When I realize that common discourse takes possession of my other and restores that other to me in the bloodless form of a universal substitute, applied to all the things which are not here, it is as if I saw my other dead, reduced, shelved in an urn upon the wall of the great mausoleum of language. For me, the other cannot be a referent: you are never anything but you, I do not want the Other to speak of you.

Not like a heart, which let people in without permission, held them in a special place she never had any say in and then yearned for them to remain there longer than they planned.

She found Safiye leaning against an oil lantern out in the garden and saw for herself that she wasn't the only foolish woman in the world, or even at that party, for Safiye had Lucy's highly polished bangle in her hand and was turning it this way and that in order to catch fireflies in the billowing, transparent left sleeve of her gown.

Falling in love is not a rational process. It can't be planned or avoided. It happens--for good or bad it simply happens. I knew he'd eventually leave. I knew we couldn't be together, but I fell anyway.

What keeps earth air breathable? Not oxygen alone. The earth is a freer place to breathe in, every time you love without calculating a return -- every time you make your drudgeries and routines still more inefficient by stopping to experience the shock of beauty wherever it unpredictably flickers.

It's the imperfections that make things beautiful

The only power that I want to use is the power of love.

What is deeply felt is never lost.

Don't work for something in Exchange, Work on something for a Change.

When you search for happiness, it flies away.When you serve others, you will find the way.When you share blessings and express kindness,You will find the source of enduring happiness.

You don't love me.. Believe me! You don't love anyone. How could you? And no one loves you. How could they? Except me, it's only because I love you that I'm telling you all this. I Love you.. R. D. Laing.

A purposeful life is a happy life.

Soulful love, is poetry in motion. A contemplation of beauty from the deep arises and the mere struggle to express the rapture of the soul.

Icarus should have waited for nightfall,the moon would have never let him go.

To find a focus, learn to love and dream.

When a poet settled down to write a poem, could he foresee the lines he would write? Did his head constantly spin with riddles and rhymes and was his only job to put them down? What if he couldn’t get them to make sense, and no one, not even the person he cared for most, could have pleasure in reading it? What would he do?

In the moonlight and under the stars Somehow your face seems clearer I revere your presence and remember We are warriors Thrusted onto this plane We are strong We must use our strength While bearing compassionIt's easy to get lost This place makes it so easy to get lost But- In the moonlight and under the stars Somehow your presence seems clearer And I remember We are warriors

Then suddenly you’re left all alonewith your body that can’t love youand your will that can’t save you.

I was his exception, and as much as I had tried to fight my feelings, he was mine.

That’s the thing about success and happiness. Every time I fall in love I become absolutely, pathologically obsessed. The moment that you have what you want, and you’re not totally ready for it, you become obsessed with the idea that you don’t deserve it.

Happiness is a state of awareness, which comes from tranquility, service, love, grace, and forgiveness.

If you're a bird... I'm a bird...

True love was beyond the bars, but a facsimile of it came with no suffering at all.

Let us all practice the power of love to win the peace.

Love yourself first to be loving and beloved.

Hard and dry, a chickpea is inedible.Hard and dry, a heart is unlovable.Presoak it in dance, music and art.

I know a womanwho keeps buying puzzleschinesepuzzlesblockswirespieces that finally fitinto some order.she works it outmathmaticallyshe solves all herpuzzleslives down by the seaputs sugar out for the antsand believesultimatelyin a better world.her hair is whiteshe seldom combs ither teeth are snaggledand she wears loose shapelesscoveralls over a body mostwomen would wish they had.for many years she irritated mewith what I considered hereccentricities-like soaking eggshells in water(to feed the plants so thatthey'd get calcium).but finally when I think of herlifeand compare it to other livesmore dazzling, originaland beautifulI realize that she has hurt fewerpeople than anybody I know(and by hurt I simply mean hurt).she has had some terrible times,times when maybe I should havehelped her morefor she is the mother of my onlychildand we were once great lovers,but she has come throughlike I saidshe has hurt fewer people thananybody I know,and if you look at it like that,well,she has created a better world.she has won.Frances, this poem is foryou.

He said, "Just as there exists in writing a literal truth and a poetic truth, there also exists in a human being a literal anatomy and a poetic anatomy. One, you can see; one, you cannot. One is made of bones and teeth and flesh; the other is made of energy and memory and faith. But both are equally true.

We have soul contracts with every person in our lives to live in the vibration of truth.

Brooke was always my summer. She’ll always be my summer. And I had already made my choice a long time ago. Loving Brooke was what I was made to do.

In Irena’s head the alcohol plays a double role: it frees her fantasy, encourages her boldness, makes her sensual, and at the same time it dims her memory. She makes love wildly, lasciviously, and at the same time the curtain of oblivion wraps her lewdness in an all-concealing darkness. As if a poet were writing his greatest poem with ink that instantly disappears.

[H]e initially conceived of Olivier as a man of the greatest promise destroyed by a fatal flaw, the unreasoning passion for a woman dissolving into violence, desperately weakening everything he tried to do. For how could learning and poetry be defended when it produced such dreadful results and was advanced by such imperfect creatures? At least Julien did not see the desperate fate of the ruined lover as a nineteenth-century novelist or a poet might have done, recasting the tale to create some appealing romantic hero, dashed to pieces against the unyielding society that produced him. Rather, his initial opinion -- held almost to the last -- was of Olivier as a failure, ruined by a terible weakness.

Love, the strongest and deepest element in all life, the harbinger of hope, of joy, of ecstasy; love, the defier of all laws, of all conventions; love, the freest, the most powerful moulder of human destiny; how can such an all-compelling force be synonymous with that poor little State and Church-begotten weed, marriage?love,

Oh invade me with your scalding mouth,search me if you like, with your nocturnal eyes,but allow me to sail and sleep upon your name.

There is nothing more lovely in life than the union of two people whose love for one another has grown through the years, from the small acorn of passion, into a great rooted tree