I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Reject your sense of injury, and the injury itself disappears.
Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.
Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.
Empty pockets never held anyone back. Only empty heads and empty hearts can do that.
Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.
Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.
I thought when love for you died, I should die. It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.
No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo.
How do you know love is gone? If you said that you would be there at seven and you get there by nine, and he or she has not called the police yet - it's gone.
Love is a great poet, its resources are inexhaustible, but if the end it has in view is not obtained, it feels weary and remains silent.
When a love comes to an end, weaklings cry, efficient ones instantly find another love, and the wise already have one in reserve.
Trouble is a part of life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough.
You say that love is nonsense. I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.
There are many persons ready to do what is right because in their hearts they know it is right. But they hesitate, waiting for the other fellow to make the make the first move - and he, in turn, waits for you.
The best way to mend a broken heart is time and girlfriends.
Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.
There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -- whatever that dream might be.
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