#love

In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory. ↗

— Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

#nostalgia #recollection #love

My love has eyes blue as the sky. Her warm, bright smile makes me want to try To give her the world, And when she's curled Up in my arms where I can feel her touch, I realize again that I love her so much. My world has turned from black to white. Kissing in starlight, basking in sunlight, dancing at midnight.' ~John's poem for Belle ↗

— Julia Quinn

#original-poetry #splendid #love

It was there, in particular, that I confirmed the truth that love, which we cry up as the source of our pleasures, is nothing more than an excuse for them. ↗

— Pierre Choderlos de Laclos

#love #pleasure #love

You could not turn off love- even the rather absent, sometimes taken for granted love- the way you'd turn off a faucet. Love ran from the heart and the heart had it's own imperatives ↗

— Stephen King

#love

First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carried letters from a girl named Martha, a junior at Mount Sebastian College in New Jersey. They were not love letters, but Lieutenant Cross was hoping, so he kept them folded in plastic at the bottom of his rusack. In the late afternoon, after a day's march, he would dig his foxhole, wash his hands under a canteen, unwrap the letters, hold them with the tips of his fingers, and spend the last hour of light pretending. ↗

— Tim O'Brien

#love #war #love

As for sex. Well, of course I could’ve had sex. Guys will have sex with a watermelon if they’re desperate enough. Lots of girls try to prove their love by having sex. It only proves they’re having sex. ↗

— Carol Matas

#love #sex #the-freak #love

Sovereign," like "love," means anything you want it to mean; it's a word in dictionary between "sober" and "sozzled. ↗

— Robert A. Heinlein

#love

I love you," she murmured. The words ... it was as though an entire sun had exploded in his chest. He'd been ridiculous. His thrashing thoughts, his grand confusion and torment and helplessness -- it was only love, had always been love, he supposed. It was no precipice he stood at, or rather precipices have little meaning when one finally acknowledges that one has wings. Connor stepped off. "I love you, too." Such grave, inadequate words for what it was he felt. ↗

— Julie Anne Long

#the-runaway-duke #love

Y los gestos del amor, ese dulce museo, esa galería de figuras de humo. Consuélese tu vanidad: la mano de Antonio buscó lo que busca tu mano, y ni aquélla ni la tuya buscaban nada que ya no hubiera sido encontrado desde la eternidad. Pero las cosas invisibles necesitan encarnarse, las ideas caen a la tierra como palomas muertas. ↗

— Julio Cortázar

#love

But love doesn't always generate hope. Anyone who has ever experienced love knows that you can have too much love or too little. You can have love that parches, love that defeats. You can have love measured out in the wrong proportions. It's like your sunlight and water--the wrong kind of love is just as likely to stifle hope as it is to nourish it. ↗

— Kevin Brockmeier

#love #love