Best 232 quotes in «infatuation quotes» category

Strange, that some of us, with quick alternative vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us.

Successful long term relationships are all about power levels. A high power level male will attract and succeed with a high level power female. How do we define those power levels? We can’t, they are inherently in us, and invisible to scientists, accountants, psychologists and spiritualists alike. None can explain the Universe in its entirety, and it is more than chemistry, biology, physics, genetics, horoscopes, religion, in-laws, fame, psychology and spirituality. We may be infatuated by a person, but as soon as we hold their hands, kiss their lips, and especially, make love or have sex with them, their power levels will be instantly exposed.

Sweetness, you're my high.

That old black magic has me in its spell.

That was the day I knew. It was as if Rolls met Royce, Black met Decker, Oliver met Stan, TinTin met Snowy, Marks met Spencer... he was to me what Patracolus was to Achilles, Hylas to Hercules, Enkidoe to Gilgamesh, Jonathan to David, Bosie to Oscar Wilde, Rimbaud to Verlaine. He was my Billy Budd, all the holy multitude of Thebes, Jasjoe mixed with Tadzio...

The fall of your hair is rushing through my head like elegant waterfalls repeatedly dancing down into an open riverbed.

The butterflies were performing circus tricks now, flying through hoops of fire. Lexi had read about infatuation once. Some writer had doused the romantic notion of winged insects. He'd said the funny feeling was simply the motion of common sense fleeing the body. It made more sense, in a world where few things did. Lexi smiled, reveling in the feeling.

The eternal relief is in finding peace after doing your work bereft of lust, anger, greed, infatuation, ego, and envy.

The good thing about dating quite a few girls in your youth is that in your later years they may reappear, in your dreams, in your sleep, exactly the same, slightly different, or completely unrecognizable as someone else, but the feelings of infatuation, even love, will be as strong as if it was the real thing, and so you will wake up many mornings, in a good mood.

The first time I heard you laugh, I only wanted to say funny things so you would always be laughing. You know what happens to chocolate when you leave it out in the sun? I’m that unfortunate chocolate and you, you are the laughing sun. For this reason, I am offering myself to you not as a martyr or some selfless fool, but as a self-indulgent moth who actively pursues the light without much fear for the flame. The moth who revels in the heat and declares: Burn me.

The guys can't take their eyes off Colleen... one of them... probably sees her just like I do, she's the gatekeeper to another world.

There is no way out other than ‘staying at the Gnani’s feet’ (being surrendered to the Enlightened one). The vision of the entire world is of infinite ‘mohaniya’ (delusional attachment), and no one can escape from it.

Then she smiled and told me I was cute, and that I should be careful, and I asked her why, then she said that she might fall for me, but I know she was joking, because who would want to fall for me? I'm a mess.

There is no one to laugh with about his cookies and milk, to gush about the fact that he is eighteen like I am eighteen only he seems much older.

The maidservants all were in love with Southampton, in a rapt, unhoping way, like a tribe of poets in love with the moon; one would have a fit of tears, then it spread to another and another, until all the house heaved with love's calamity.

theres a heavy silence between us it settles in the creases on your jacket and seeps into the fur on my hood. i know your middle name and i know your birthday and i know you look more like your dad but you wish you looked like your mom. i watch your back and for the first time in my life im genuinely terrified. "whats my birthday?" i ask and you dont look at me because you never do you never look me in the eye you never say my name and god its hitting me. its hitting me that maybe maybe it was all for nothing i know you inside and out i know you better than i know myself and maybe thats all for nothing. "it’s in december, right?" you ask but its not a question and if i were anyone else if i werent love-sick if i wasnt absolutely fucking blinded by you i would punch you in the fucking mouth. my birthday is may fifth.

There's treachery in her hips, rebellion in her heart & magic in her mind.

There was a little padded seat beside the rattling panes and mouldy sand-bags, it was the coldest place in the room; but she kept there for an hour and a half, with a shawl about her, shivering, squinting at her stitches, and sneaking sly little glances at the road to the house. I thought, if that wasn’t love, then I was a Dutchman; and if it was love, then lovers were pigeons and geese, and I was glad I was not one of them.

These five words you utter make the sun rise again: “I’m going to come home.” How is it possible for one person to be the sole reason for my existence? When I hear you say these golden words, the warmth spreads from my stomach until it reaches my pulsating fingertips. How is it possible for one person to be the sole reason for my ecstasy? These five words your utter are even more precious when I’m holding you tight and you whisper only four of them. Because then, I’m really home.

They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.

The smell of her hair lingered just out of reach of his memory and left him with a nervous hum resonating throughout his body like a child forced to sit in church while the sun was shining outside on a perfectly good summer's day.

They know too well the violent hypnosis of those who hope to possess them-- men who can smell the blood on the places where a woman is breaking.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN: How beautiful is the Princess Salome to-night! THE PAGE OF HERODIAS: You are always looking at her. You look at her too much. It is dangerous to look at people in such fashion. Something terrible may happen.

These women are a blessing from the One above. Adam was lonely, it's true to be, God blessed him with a woman i the middle of a garden of beauty. I mean think of the beauty; angels from heaven came down to dominate our women. Wars won, wars lost over their species. Shout out Cleopatra, shout out Marilyn Monroe, mastered the art of seduction, it's something I know. But back to us like we're in the middle of lust, pulling on your hair and the taste of your wet, scratching and biting til the sun set.

The sun still lives his silent vows to the moon, by bowing to kiss her feet whenever she walks in the room.

The whole world could be going wrong, but seeing her made him forget.

The world believes ‘asakti’ [infatuation, attraction of atoms] to be love and (then) become confused. Woman has some work from men and men has some work from women. All this has arisen because of work (expectations). If work does not get completed, all within will complain and form an attack. Not for even a second has anyone become one’s own. Only the Gnani Purush [the enlightened one] will become yours. That is why the Lord has said, ‘Every living being is an orphan’.

The worldly vision is filled with infinite infatuations and attachments and no one can escape from it; [hence] there is no alternative other than staying in Gnani’s feet [surrendering to the enlightened one is the only alternative].

This figure, which I had so vaguely, idly, noticed before was now utterly changed in my eyes. The whole world was its background. And between me and it there hovered, perhaps for the last time, the vision of a slim long-legged girl with gleaming thighs. I ran.

Time didn’t heal my heal wounds but it lent me perspective. My vision was no longer clouded and I saw what I’d become. I’d let inspiration become obsession. Tunnel vision had hindered all progress. I was so fixated on you, I got stuck.

Triana realized Alexio was going to unravel her predictable world and the idea excited her.

To see you is to forget my name. To forget this tight collar and that delayed train. To forget the conflict with the landlady and the worry that my students won’t like me. These trifles lose themselves in the valleys of your brows and the seas of your hair. To see you is to forget my name. To forget if it matters what I do and whether what I do matters. To forget who I think I am and who I think I ought to become. To forget every past moment and unremember every moment to come. To see you is to forget my name. To forget myself and forget the world. These trivialities drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at me. Because to see you is to see you. Only you.

...to understand infatuation, how the loved person can become a holding pattern for all the tattered ends of memory, experience and thought you've ever had.

To try to give our infatuation a higher place than Truth is a sign of inherent slavishness. Where our minds are free we find ourselves lost. Our moribund vitality must have for its rider either some fantasy, or someone in authority, or a sanction from the pundits, in order to make it move. So long as we are impervious to truth and have to be moved by some hypnotic stimulus, we must know that we lack the capacity for self- government. Whatever may be our condition, we shall either need some imaginary ghost or some actual medicine-man to terrorize over us.

Walking towards love is wiser than falling into it.

Vairaag is a state where one remembers the beatings that one has experienced.

What if love wasn’t a mysterious “thing” that capriciously attached itself to whomever it willed? Could it be instead a deliberate choice of action? Jesus had commanded His followers to “love one another.” Would He give such a commandment if people had no control over their ability to love? And does that mean that romantic love between a man and woman can be cultivated, just as Mrs. Kingston cultivates her roses? She recalled standing at a window facing the Anwyl and determining that, like Saint Paul, she would learn contentment. If contentment could be achieved through an act of will, then why couldn’t love? And it would seem that a love purposely cultivated for a man because of his kind nature and comforting ways would eventually grow stronger and deeper than one based on mere physical attraction.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

We commonly confuse love with the strong emotions most often associated with it, such as joy, attachment, lust, infatuation, pleasure, pain, fear, and hope, to name a few. But, love is not a feeling; love itself is an action. There are countless emotions and beliefs that can cause us to love. Love is the willing giving of self to another living being. Love is giving the life, time, energy, and resources that we would normally give or use for our self to someone else. Love is an action that enhances the well-being of another living being.

We think we like or love some people until we see them regularly.

Was that pity? I think it was. No wonder, I even pity myself. Will the pity make her love me? Make her take me home with her and look after me like the plant? Fucking bastard smug plant.

We come together because of the attraction of the sub-atomic particles (paramanu), due to karmic relationships; that is asakti (infatuation). Because of this asakti [infatuation], we get pushed around. Asakti arises again; when we become anaskata (remain non-attached), that will bring the solution.

What had passed between them had been real and true and lived. Not like the silly infatuation she had felt for [him] when she was 16, or the foolish attraction she’d felt. Theirs had been a true love. Forged and built and earned.

When Odette ceased to be for him a creature always absent, longed for, imaginary, when the feeling he had for her was no longer the same mysterious disturbance caused in him by the phrase from the sonata, but affection, gratitude, when normal relations were established between them that would put an end to his madness and his gloom, then no doubt the actions of Odette's daily life would appear to him of little interest in themselves... (p. 302, In Search of Lost Time Vol. 1 The Way by Swann's, Lydia Davis translation)

What she had realized was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst.

When one is attracted towards a woman; it is ‘asakti’ [infatuation]. But when the soul [relative self] gets engrossed into it; that is ‘attachment’ [raag].

What's the matter?" you asked, seizing an idea. "Did I burst your balloon - destroy the fantasy?" I struggled for a way to answer this without my clothes. ... Well his was very cruel, but loving you'd become a full-time job and I wasn't ready to be unemployed.

When two people can't live up to each other's expectations, they'll look for their fantasized satisfaction in the next relationship, the next experience, the next excitement.

When someone steals your heart not even the law can help you.

When you are infatuated with someone,like I was with Drew,it's very difficult to see them for what they really are