Best 232 quotes in «infatuation quotes» category

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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

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].

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 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.

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.

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.

...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 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 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.

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.

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

Walking towards love is wiser than falling into it.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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 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 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.

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

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 you fall for someone not even reason can help you up.

Where there is asakti [infatuation], there accusations cannot refrain from happening. That is indeed the nature of asakti [infatuation].

When you love someone, you end up caring about each and every person they love. When you hate someone, you end up caring about every single person who hates them.

Where do you see conflict in this world? Only where there is infatuation (attachment).

You breathe into my words & animate them with life. I'd fall from heaven a trillion times over to die in the softness of your paradise.

Which was why he reflexively turned when a flash of iridescence caught his eye. His first thought was: Morpho rhetenor Helena. The extraordinary tropical butterfly with wings of shifting colors: blues, lavenders, greens. It proved to be a woman’s skirt. The color was blue, but by the light of the legion of overhead candles, he saw purples and even greens shivering in its weave. A bracelet of pale stones winked around one wrist, a circlet banded her dark head. The chandelier struck little beams from that, too. She’s altogether too shiny for a woman, he decided, and began to turn away. Which was when she tipped her face up into the light. Everything stopped. The beat of his heart, the pump of his lungs, the march of time. Seconds later, thankfully, it all resumed. Much more violently than previously. And then absurd notions roman-candled in his mind. His palms ached to cradle her face—it was a kitten’s face, broad and fair at the brow, stubborn at the chin. She had kitten’s eyes, too: large and a bit tilted and surely they weren’t actually the azure of calm southern seas? Surely he, Miles Redmond, hadn’t entertained such a florid thought? Her eyebrows were wicked: fine, slanted, very dark. Her hair was probably brown, but it was as though he’d never learned the word “brown.” Burnished. Silk. Copper. Azure. Delicate. Angel. Hallelujah. Suddenly these were the only words he knew.

With her blazing fire she came to me and consumed fully the fluttering insect of frenzied love residing inside me.

Yearning is a red-haired girl sitting on the hood of her silver sedan, reading about Marilyn Monroe.

You are the remedy of intensity i need in my life, to spin me out of the miserable monotony of working on life's daily assembly lines.

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

Worldly life means it is ever changing. So where is the need for [worrying] ‘this will happen’ or ‘that will happen’? Why have attachment for that [someone] which shows regards towards you one day and disregard the next? It is worth having attachment for trikali vastu [eternal element that remains constant during the three-time span - past, present and future], which is one’s own (real) ‘nature’. And one should do attachment for the Gnani Purush [the enlightened one] who graces you with the awareness of your Self. Never will a change occur in Him.

Yet the room was all in all to me, Estella being in it.

You don’t know what you miss. A woman’s body is like whipped cream, so delicate and delicious it will melt in your mouth.