We loved with a love that was more than love.
She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.
Love is not breathlessness; It is not excitement; It is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love”, which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.
As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.
You and I, it's as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.
We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness — and call it love — true love.
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides.
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.
You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.
You know you're in love when you stop comparing.
Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my preference! I never had a PREFERENCE for her, any more than I have a preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any other woman's living.
Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken again. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.
Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
To Grandma: Once upon a time, there was a boy who flew.
Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.
I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell. What I mean is that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me.
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