Best 41 quotes of Tatjana Ostojic on MyQuotes

Behind every 'I love you', there is an invisible 'until'.

Darling, I’m walking around our places without you. Thinking of the last time we talked, we laughed, kissed, and made love. I couldn’t remember. Not one moment. Not one feeling. Just a faded canvas left in front of me.

Drop by a drop of rain will bring a deluge, unless the dry summer sky is suppressing the clouds. But love… If given little by little, nobody can feed off its crumbs. Only a woman who loves thinks a little is enough, for the one who is precious to her heart, her eyes cannot see.

Eager to please I submit to your moulds, your forms, dimensions, turned into a monolithic figure I silence my objections because love is the ending goal.

Even the "proper way" of how we express our love for another is imposed on us and dictated by societies we live in.

Exposure to erotically inclined stimuli immediately activates parts of a male brain that are associated with sexual desire. Being attracted to other women, however, doesn’t mean men would betray the trust they are given and harm the partnership with the women they love.

Forgive me, you are amiable and heavenly perfect. It is me who carries the old pain as if it were a badge of honour.

Give my soul to Heaven to keep it, while I am becoming nothing but pleasure in your skilful hands of a sculptor.

His eyes mimic mine. Sublime beauty marks of a man’s face. Staring and penetrating. Gentle and loving. Salacious. Immaculate. Feeding my hope and starving my anguish.

I covet him. His hot body over mine, sweaty and smelling like grass after the rain. I want to live that moment of Eros again and again and again. Never having enough of him, the masculine image of me, a piece of art, unique masterpiece of God, that is calmly sleeping beside me.

If only you were the one I loved first, maybe I’d only suffer from not being able to love you more.

I have not known who I were until you introduced me to my heart.

I'm disappearing in the nightfall, becoming one with the rocks I’m sitting on… Sinking in my own reminiscence of your smile, your lips and your smell… Not missing you, not longing for you, but grieving for the dreams that held the image of the darkest brown eyes. Perhaps I was your one as you called me… It is said a man can be happy with any woman but the one he truly loves.

I’m wrapped in you. Melting in your silhouette and becoming one, a strange contour of love, flowing with the wind.

Is it possible to silence the mind of a lover without losing it? Getting desires fulfilled might satisfy it, taking away its peace.

It doesn’t really matter you aren’t here. The raindrops are keeping you alive through growing palm forests. Wild, untamed and unconquered, as your wandering heart.

It is more difficult for you to pretend having feelings when you don’t, than it is to me to pretend I don’t have any when I do. That is why I’d rather sleep. Not having to think. Just to feel. In the sea of illusions, every touch of yours belongs to me.

It is you folding me like the bellows of an accordion. I am surrendering. Only to you. And giving you the right to own me as you will.

I wonder if Gaudi was collecting pieces of broken tiles, trying to mend his shattered heart, his crushed soul, his splintered being, his overwhelming sorrow for the unrequited love.

Love gives value to the one who loves and not to the loved one.

Love is a longing for becoming one with another human being that nobody of us can avoid.

Love me. As a mother who had fed you on her breasts. Like a lover who teased you with them. Like a friend on whose chest you laid your head and wept. Love me.

May the cracks in my heart be the place where I shall plant my tears which would rise in blossoms. If they hit me with stones, I’m going to throw at them flowers. As a sign of celebration. The victory of reason over ego. I’ve risen above it all, on the ashes of my old soul that, as Phoenix, found its way to light up the Universe.

Not every marital union is going to be a meaningful and fulfilling experience. Most of marriages today are nothing more than poorly or well managed coexistence.

Nowhere to be touched or explored, not here and not in distance. It’s just a tingle that overflows my brightest dreams. Am I wise or simple-minded to believe that non–existent evidence is not an evidence of non–existence?

Once there are no more obstacles to overcome, no sudden closeness to achieve, the eyes open the windows to deception and lies, when two intimate hearts become strangers again, that’s how the love dies.

Only the desireless can see the world objectively, detached from emotion, outcome and need. But what is the meaning of the truth if there is no love in between?

Our love is like the moon, changeable through all the phases of complete disappearance to full existence. It raises the sea up to the sky and makes the cool wind ripple its surface. Blindly sparkling it doesn’t let us see. I know I’m not the only one to love you, but your heart inquired only of me.

Relationships that are merely based on practicality or utility will ultimately make us feel lonely.

Tens of voices announced the time for the prayer. In all the magnificence of the scenery, “God is the Greatest” fits flawlessly, and makes me close my eyes and murmur my supplication.

The common ways of 'dealing with problems' are escapism and indulgence. Rare of us realize that inside issues can never be fixed on the outside.

The evaporated dream that I would be adored became my identity as the thorn is to rose.

The greatest power of love is in its capability to revive, regenerate and expand after we have experienced and overcome difficulties in our relationships.

The love we say we feel for another is, in most cases, just a selfish hunt for our own happiness.

The new story of ardour unfolding, the tale of tantrums of the hearts. An affair with a stranger who still can’t feel it, while silently roaming its streets.

The property of attraction that indicates that it can fall and rise, oscillate and indefinitely disappear, shows us how unstable indicator of true love attraction is.

There are no words that could describe how loving of beloved feels. Nor the joy of opening arms into a hug.

The two of us, two lost keys of the different doors, once strangers and now a souvenir of pain.

The world stops existing in your arms, leaving me speechless… In love with love.

We always say we choose our partners following our free will, when in fact, it is our cultures, traditions and religions that instilled different set of values ( and desirable virtues ) and as such directly affected what we consider acceptable in our relationships.

What is love but a word? A feeling roughly concordant to fear? A fantasy that breaks through the heartbreak and endows the defeated with bravery?