After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?
Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.
They should tell you when you’re born: have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel.
When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It's safe. Let go.
If we must part for ever, Give me but one kind word to think upon, And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking!
I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?
All love shifts and changes. I don't know if you can be wholeheartedly in love all the time.
Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.
We love because it's the only true adventure.
When one door closes another door opens. Usually a refrigerator.
Unhappy love freezes all our affections: our own souls grow inexplicable to us. More than we gained while we were happy we lose by the reverse.
Once, when I was young and true. Someone left me sad - Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse.
The end / of passion / may refashion / a friend.
while nearly every way of falling in love is kind, every way of getting out of love is cruel.
What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose.
These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.
Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
It is sad not to love, but it is much sadder not to be able to love.
All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing; a confusion of the real with the ideal never goes unpunished.
Every intimacy carries secreted somewhere below its initial lovely surfaces, the ever-coiled makings of complete catastrophe.
Marriage becomes hard work once you have poured the entirety of your life’s expectations for happiness into the hands of one mere person. Keeping that going is hard work.
Real, sane, mature love—the kind that pays the mortgage year after year and picks up the kids after school—is not based on infatuation but on affection and respect.
every healthy marriage is composed of walls and windows. The windows are the aspects of your relationship that are open to the world—that is, the necessary gaps through which you interact with family and friends; the walls are the barriers of trust behind which you guard the most intimatesecrets of your marriage.
The feeling of loving her and being loved by her welled up in him, and he could taste the adrenaline in the back of his throat, and maybe it wasn't over, and maybe he could feel her hand in his again and hear her loud, brash voice contort itself into a whisper to say I-love-you as if it were a secret, and an immense one.
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