Lover Quotes - Page 5

Soon enough the tears came but of course nobody came down to see if she was all right, it was just the slut in the kitchen who'd ruined their lives, getting drunk of neat gin and howling for her lost lunatic offer.

No people find each other more absurd than lovers

The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It's an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?

Like freshly cut roses, I place life in a vase... of love.

I began to write because of love. I wrote to understand what I felt and what I knew.

Never compare your love life from what you read or watched in a movie. Those are carefully thought about, yours on the good will of fate

To begin to know ourselves we must have sincere conversations with ourselves as if with a good friend. We must answer without reserve, listen without judgement, and accept without condition. That is self-love.

For the longest time I couldn't understand the meaning of the cliche "being compatible" - whether about a lover, colleague, team mate or friend. I now get it. There is so much more behind this superficial nauseatingly-pragmatic diplomatic phrase -- it goes deep down to the true essence of someone, how they see the world, how they see and position themselves, how prepared/capable they are to back you, whether they can understand who you are and if they are prepared to break walls for you. Anything else is details.

My head aches, my eyes burn, my arms and legs have given up, and my face in the mirror has a grayish cast. The bed, across the room, calls in its unmistakable lover's croon, Come to me, come, only I can make you truly happy, oh, how happy I'll make you, don't resist, remember how you moan with pleasure the instant we touch.....Laura Acosta

Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...

It was not only Odette's indifference, however, that he must take pains to circumvent; it was also, not infrequently, his own; feeling that, since Odette had had every facility for seeing him, she seemed no longer to have very much to say to him when they did meet, he was afraid lest the manner - at once trivial, monotonous, and seemingly unalterable - which she now adopted when they were together should ultimately destroy in him that romantic hope, that a day might come when she would make avowal of her passion, by which hope alone he had become and would remain her lover.

There are times when a lover longs to be also a father and a brother: he is jealous of the years he hasn't shared.

Take me when I'm wild.Take me when I'm free.Take me for meand I will take you as you want to be.

Creation of a pregnant imagination.

And when I fall in love,” I began, "I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all around, high enough to reach our eyes.

There is none more beautiful than the lover of beauty.

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE LOVERThere is the motherWho cooks too muchTo feed her children,And there is the motherWho cooks too little,Or not at all.There is the birdThat returns to its nestWith just a frail wormAnd feeds it to her babies,And there is the birdThat kills its frail babiesJust to eat the worm.There is the loverWho argues thatThere is neverEnough love,And there is the other loverWho argues that love isAll there everWas.

The ocean is both my mistress and my lover. How else can I explain her salty kiss that is still on my lips.

There is nothing I can do that won’t bring me back to you.

Marry your friend, and you will be reasonably happy. Marry your lover, and you will be abundantly happy. Marry your soulmate, and you will be infinitely happy.

I can’t believe it.’ I whispered.‘You can’t let him lure you back in, Felicia. He’s wrong. He’s wrong!’ Vanian pleaded, I could feel the quiver of his magic, the wisps that were fighting against the iron burning into his wrists, I could feel the crackle as it fought in the air, against his emotions, against his pain. I shook my head, was about to speak but Adam grabbed him by the front of his shirt; as if a few more tears and shreds couldn’t go amiss. The tightness of his grip paled the Faerie’s cheeks, caused the blood to trickle down faster, dropping to the floor.‘My wife.’ He yelled, ‘She’s my wife, silverblood.’ With each growl of a syllable he accented it with a punch to Vanian’s face.I couldn’t take much more. I jumped over and pulled at Adam’s shoulders, fingertips driving into the nook of his collarbone, pressing down with as much as I had in me, anything to break his hold. He recoiled and rose his hand to me, at first I flinched but I stopped. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t.

Believe me when I say: 'Out of all those around, she’s the best locksmith in town.' Her stethoscope ears know when the dials of your heart click into place.She’s been cutting keys for years.You don’t stand a chance with that flimsy case.Alas, no matter how you lock your heart— bolt, fixture, and key— she’s got nimble fingersthat pick locks for free.Padlocks and deadboltsare all in vain.Why do you even botherwith that chain?She’s way too smart. Along with ours, she’ll have your heart. And you will see that the best locksmith in town is she.

If you can love one person, you can love everyone.

Missing you,I missed a part of meI shared with you that’s now gone.Missing you, when really, it was the way you made me feeland the things you made us do.Missing you I shouldn’t be.But I can’t help missing who I was with you.Missing you,I missed and missed so much of the world and wasn’t even missed in return.

Every act of loving affirms the goodness of the lover just because he is capable of loving and being loved.

Speak to me: I will spend my lifetime trying to understand you.

Never had we ever kissed as lovers; if we touched lips it was as brother and sister. In one moment of emotion, our lips fell together by accident, but we quickly removed ourselves as though we were children touching glass with dirty hands.

Your love brought me closer to God.

Put down your glass, it is time to dance. If you want to get drunk all you need is to drink love. Put down your pipe and do away with these childish toys. If you want to get high all you need is to breathe love. Now, can I have this dance?

Derrick, you have to make the air move out of her tummy. You are not assaulting her. You're saving her from a stomach ache. ~Anne Howard

A friend or an enemy can tell me something about my subjective being, a casual lover can judge my body — the man I love judges my entire being. Every one of his caresses tells me how I am: attractive, desirable. Every one of his questions and answers tells me what I am: a person with whom he wants to enjoy himself, who interests him more than all the others he knows. By choosing me among all others, my love has made me unique; I alone in all the world am the one he loves, and no other. If I am lucky in love, the definitions become more precise from day to day; after each date I know even better than before what I want to know about myself. The others can say what they like about me; I don't have to believe a word of it. Only the one I love can tell me about myself. Since his definitions grow increasingly precise, my dependence on him also grows more acute as time goes on, but he is in the same position with regard to me. I tell him that I belong to him alone, that he can do with me what he likes, that I cannot live without him.

I was a young, & had deep loves, & my heart would overflow with enthusiasm! And I mingled with the crowd, I mixed with my fellow men, speaking my thought out loud! And they gaped back at me, without understanding. And I withdrew from them, & they said to me: Arrogant one! And from time to time in my solitude, my loves, my repressed enthusiasms broke out into odes, conversation; & my companions laughed and used to point at me as a madman. So I suffered, doubted, cursed, & no one believed me sincere. It’s as if this heart, once so full of strength & love were annihilated.

Just one caress became a symphony of passion, insatiable longing, an unquenchable desire to possess.... Gasps... The sparkling touch, embrace make hard to breathe... A mere short burst of brilliance, explosive need...forbidden sweet... Beneath the warmth of a dancing rainbow summer sunset, slowly tuning into the magic night with the stars flooding the sapphire skies...the sacred emerald island wildlife listens to our song, played with loving fingertips, reflected in diving deep into each other's ocean eyes...

Even when it seems that there is no one else, always remember there's one person who never ceased to love you - yourself.

To love is to finally live.

I never wanted to be a martyr—even for love. I don’t want to die for love. I want to live for it.

For me,you are fresh waterthat falls from treeswhen it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and givesbitter wordssweetening.For me, you are the scent of violins and visionof valleys smiling.And still,for me, your loveliness never ends.It traverses the worldand finds its way back to me.Only me.

Forgiveness is all about love. Where love abounds, there forgiveness will not tarry

They want to knowwho I write these poems for.Tell them it's for all loversbecause I don’t see a differencebetween our loveand their love.

i always get myselfinto this messi always let himtell me i am beautifuland half believe iti always jump thinkinghe will catch me at the falli am hopelessly a lover anda dreamer and that will bethe death of me

Beauty is dad kissing mom's hand when it cramps.Beauty is seeing a Persian woman dance.Ugly is not the absence of beauty.Uglyis the inability to identify it.The inability to be surprised by it.It is the persistent reluctance to be made a child by it.Beauty is simplythe manifestation oflove.

This is an ode to life.The anthem of the world.For as there are billionsof different stars thatmake up the skyso, too, are there billions of different humans thatmake up the Earth.Some shine brighter but all are made ofthe same cosmic dust.O the joy of beingin life with all these people!I speak of differencesbecause they are there.Like the different organsthat make up our bodies.Earth, itself, is one large body.Listen to how it howlswhen one human isin misery.When one kills another, the Earth feels the pang in itschest. When one orgasms, the Earth craves a cigarette.Look carefully,these animals are beauty spots that make the Earth’s face lovelier and more loveable.These oceans are the Earth’s limpid eyes. These trees, its hair.This is an ode to life.The anthem of the world.I will no longer speak of differences, for the similaritiesare larger. Look even closer. There may bedistances between our limbs butthere are no spaces betweenour hearts. We long to be one.We long to be in nature andto run wild with its wildlife.Let us celebrate life and living, for it is sacrilegious to be ungrateful.Let us play and be playful, for it is sacrilegiousto be serious.Let us celebrate imperfectionsand make existenceproud of us, for tomorrow isdeath, and this is an ode to life. The anthem of the world.

Some people masturbate to temporarily replace their partners when they are absent, whereas some people do that to temporarily live in the present.

My husband's personality was filled with serenity and sunlight. Not even the incurable illness which fell upon him soon after our marriage could long cloud his brow. On the very night of his death he took me in his arms, and during the many months when he lay dying in his wheel chair, he often said jokingly to me: 'Well, have you already picked out a lover?' I blushed with shame. 'Don't deceive me,' he added on one occasion, 'that would seem ugly to me, but pick out an attractive lover, or preferably several. You are a splendid woman, but still half a child, and you need toys.

We all have the ability to make someone's life better with our love.

When the wildish woman has an idea, the friend or lover will never say, "Well, I don't know . . . sounds really dumb [grandiose, undoable, expensive, etc.] to me." A right friend will never say that. They might say instead . . . "I don't know if I understand. Tell me how you see it. Tell me how it will work.

Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.

Knowing you,I became mindless.Having wasted previous wishes,I'm riddled with regretsFeeling you,I became hopeless.Adrift in chasms,I surrender to a caress.Loving you,I became love.My universe became love.Planets rotate on love's axes andapples fall to be near their beloveds.No longer a rationalist, I assert my existence with love. I love, therefore I exist,therefore I love.

I loved watching her run around. I was in love with the innocence of dogs, the purity of their affection. They didn’t know enough to hide their feelings. They existed. A dog was a dog.

Frequent friction when love becomes political.

The only thing that comes close to defining me correctly is my love.

These are the things you don’t say, even to someone you love.

The lover drinksand the cup-bearer pours.The lover thinksbut the cup-bearer knows:love begets love.Since this wine is love,then this cup is love,then this tavern is love,then this life is love.

He was presumably a lover. They did things like commanding battalions. And worse!

Love is a snowflake for no two are ever the same.

I write our names on the page.What of it, if the paper will be burned?I write our names in the sand.What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves?I write our names on trees that will be cutand benches that will be painted,but what of it?I will keep on writing our namesbecause in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.

Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love?Do they ever think of you and meor only of themselves?Do they know that I once found a strand of your hairand wore it around my necklike a necklace?That I kiss your handsmore than I kiss your lips?Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe’s ocean of loveand that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?

I close my eyes to indulge and reminisce of a sunset that never existed.

I love you" he said. I did not say anything. What could I say? If i said i love you too, i had perpetual punishment for being a liar.

I believed all Angels had wings, that they never cried, that I would live a lifetimes and never see one up close, never know the glow of such skin, or know how intoxicating the feel of her soft lips pressing hard against mine, or how beautiful was a simple touch, and then you walked into my life and made me wonder why I had wasted so much time thinking about Angels.