in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
Great passions, my dear, don't exist: they're liars fantasies. What do exist are little loves that may last for a short or a longer while.
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Love Quotes
in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
A man fell in love with Jeanne, and she tried to love him. But she complained that he uttered such ordinary words, that he could never say the magic phrase which would open her being.
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Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
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in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ.
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I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
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The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction.
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in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ast. And that in wondering bout the big things and asting bout the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more i wonder, he say, the more i love.
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Men are foolish, are they not, Mademoiselle? To eat, to drink, to breathe the good air, it is a very pleasant thing, Mademoiselle. One is foolish to leave all that simply because one has no money — or because the heart aches. L'amour, it causes many fatalities, does it not?
from the book "The Mystery of the Blue Train" by Agatha Christie
in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
Last time i had my hands on you, you felt like a bird - struggling to escape. You'll never escape now...
from the book "towards zero" by Agatha Christie
Posted by: Marianna Mansueto
in Quotes & Aphorisms (Love)
In the mad or sweet hugs your body that was not tried but your soul, your thoughts, your feelings, your dreams, your poems. And maybe it's true that love almost never relates to a body, often we choose or accept a person for inexplicable charm with which it hits us, or for what it represents to our eyes, our beliefs, to our morals; however, the vehicle of a loving relationship remains the body, and if that doesn't seduce you, something else has to seduce you. The character, for example, the way of living or the behavior. And in time I discovered that I didn't like a lot your character [...] So why had I the impulse to run after you, to hug you, feel your mustache against my cheek, why did I feel the need to scrape off the throat and send back the tears?
from the book "" by Oriana Fallaci