Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all.
Love means the courage to expose yourself to the potential pains of being hurt, deeply hurt by someone you trust.
Being an American means never having to say you're sorry.
For the taxable investor, indexing means never having to say you're sorry.
Avant-garde means never having to say you're sorry.
Vasectomy means never having to say you're sorry.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.
Love means having to say you're sorry every fifteen minutes.
Sometimes love means letting go when you want to hold on tighter.
Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.
Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.
Anyone who loves in the expectation of being loved in return is wasting their time.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.
To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.
Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.
Faith means believing the unbelievable.
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.
Love itself is what is left over when being "in love" has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides.
Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep...wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you....The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.'
It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.
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.
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