My Love Quotes (page 114)
-
-
-
The Bible is clear here: I am to love my neighbor as myself, in the manner needed, in a practical way, in the midst of the fallen world, at my particular point of history. This is why I am not a pacifist. Pacifism in this poor world in which we live -- this lost world -- means that we desert the people who need our greatest help.
Francis Schaeffer
If indeed it's a race. Then the chicks do the most. It isn't a brag. Or an estrogen boast. It's the women who've led me. With big open hearts. If not for their love. I'd have failed at the start. And it's not just the mothers. I speak of them ALLIt's a woman there first When somebody falls. The multi of tasking. That's easy to tease. I dare a great man. To try it all, PLEASE! So this is my shout out. My rallying cry. To women all over. I hold you up high. And though there are others. Who'll...
Jamie Lee Curtis
So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Neil Gaiman
You are aware of only one unrest; Oh, never learn to know the other! Two souls, alas, are dwelling in my breast, And one is striving to forsake its brother. Unto the world in grossly loving zest, With clinging tendrils, one adheres; The other rises forcibly in quest. Of rarefied ancestral spheres. If there be spirits in the air. That hold their sway between the earth and sky, Descend out of the golden vapors there. And sweep me into iridescent life. Oh, came a magic cloak into my hands. To...
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Consummation Of Grief. I even hear the mountainsthe way they laughup and down their blue sidesand down in the waterthe fish cryand the water is their tears. I listen to the wateron nights I drink awayand the sadness becomes so great. I hear it in my clockit becomes knobs upon my dresserit becomes paper on the floorit becomes a shoehorna laundry ticketit becomescigarette smokeclimbing a chapel of dark vines. . . it matters littlevery little love is not so bador very little lifewhat countsis...
Charles Bukowski
I blinked at her. My shades were down and the hall was dark and to me, half-drugged and reeling, she seemed not at all her bright unattainable self but rather a hazy and ineffably tender apparition, all slender wrists and shadows and disordered hair, the Camilla who resided, dim and lovely, in the gloomy boudoir of my dreams.
Donna Tartt
Mara was waiting for me under a tree. Before I could say anything, she kissed me on the mouth, sticking her tongue down my throat. She tasted of cigarettes and expensive food. I tasted of cigarettes and cheap food. But both kinds of food were good. All the fear and sadness that I felt instantly melted away. Instead of going to her little house we started to make love right there, standing up under the tree. So that no one would hear the sounds she made, Mara bit my neck. I pulled out before I...
Roberto Bolano
Plutarch taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and boundless seas. This book developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour for virtue rise within...
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-T-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I'd allow it, she'd love to dress me everydayperhaps several times a daylike some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.
Stephenie Meyer
The poets and philosophers I once loved had it wrong. Death does not come to us all, nor does the passage of time dim our memories and reduce our bodies to dust. Because while I was considered dead, and a headstone had been engraved with my name, in truth my life was just beginning.
Kevin Williamson
Isabella Swan?” He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. “I promise to love you forever—every single day of forever. Will you marry me?”
There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, “Yes.”
“Thank you,” he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my...
Stephenie Meyer