I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
Love does not occur only in the human soul; it is not simply the attraction we feel toward human beauty: it is a significantly broader phenomenon. It certainly occurs within the animal kingdom, and even in the world of plants. In fact, it occurs everywhere in the universe.
Love is the most unstable, the most unreliable of man’s instincts, the most prone of its very essence to error and fatal perversion.
The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself.
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
There are so few people given us to love and they all stick.
my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Love—sexual roughhouse in fact—was the supreme elixir, the pain killer, the brightly colored pill that would put the spring back into his step, the joy of life in his heart.
So close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
But admiration and sadness, admiration and worry, is not that almost a definition of love?
I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it—to be fed so much love I couldn't take it any more. Just once.
There is only one way to win hearts and that is to make oneself like unto those of whom one would be loved.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
There was something very special, but it wasn’t inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her.
You needed love, but not the kind of love most people used and were used up by.
Love never keeps a man from pursuing his personal legend. If he abandons that pursuit, it's because it wasn't true love.
We never say the word Love, do we-we know it's a suspect ideological construct—especially Romantic Love—so we have to make a real effort of imagination to know what it felt like to be them, here, believing in these things.
I am obsessed by love, by the need of it and the near impossibility of it.
A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two, who had never seen each other before that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other.
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. 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.
My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees.
Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable.
But if anyone had asked, he would have told them that he never lived before he met her. And not after either.
Anything that could last through twenty years of silence deserves the name of love.
I think that the happiest time in a man’s life is when he’s courting a girl and finds out for sure that she loves him and hasn’t a thought for any one else.