Loved Quotes (page 279)
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These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey. Is loathsome in his own deliciousness. And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
William Shakespeare
If you can think of times in your life that you’ve treated people with extraordinary decency and love, and pure uninterested concern, just because they were valuable as human beings. The ability to do that with ourselves. To treat ourselves the way we would treat a really good, precious friend. Or a tiny child of ours that we absolutely loved more than life itself. And I think it’s probably possible to achieve that. I think part of the job we’re here for is to learn how to do it
David Foster Wallace
No, Mr Redmayne, not my tears. Although I've read that letter every day for the past eight months, those tears were not shed by me, but by the man who wrote them. He knew how much I loved him. We would have made a life together even if we could only spend one day a month with each other. I'd have been happy to wait twenty years, more, in the hope that I would eventually be allowed to spend the rest of my life with the only man I'll ever love. I adored Danny from the day I met him, and no one...
Jeffrey Archer
I didn't marry you because you were perfect. I didn't even marry you because I loved you. I married you because you gave me a promise. That promise made up for your faults. And the promise I gave you made up for mine. Two imperfect people got married and it was the promise that made the marriage. And when our children were growing up, it wasn't a house that protected them; and it wasn't our love that protected them--it was that promise.
Thornton Wilder
They say that Hope is happinessBut genuine Love must prize the past;And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless:They rose first -- they set the last.And all that mem'ry loves the mostWas once our only hope to be:And all that hope adored and lostHath melted into memory.Alas! It is delusion all--The future cheats us from afar:Nor can we be what we recall,Nor dare we think on what we are.
George Byron