Best 943 quotes in «love story quotes» category

Capture every moments of your life.

Catboy slept that night curled up on the Kid’s chest. There was a huge windstorm that blew canopies of rain between the buildings of the apartment complex. Vanjii, of course, slept through it, but the Kid spent most of the night somewhere between waking and sleeping. He could hear the wind and rain all the time, and sometimes he could feel Catboy’s claws on his chest, kneading. He dreamed that the wind was an old bruja, a witch, wandering the deserted streets outside, looking for Catboy so she could take him away and hurt him.

Charlee has my arm. She has my arm—my arm that’s rigid from pleasure, from her touch—in her little fingers. She holds my other one, too and she’s right there, that sweet candy perfume stripping the rest of the strength from my body, and it escapes in a soft, breathy sigh.

Cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes like liquid scotch. Loren Hale is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn't even know it.

Children bring life to the soul.

Children have always liked the princess story, but they never knew what was her name. I think the princess was, is and will always be you.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the air around me. When I slowly re-enter the world, I look into the most intense brown eyes I've ever seen. My breathing catches. I can’t look away. Fuck, he's hot. I can literally feel my brain cells frying. Who's dumb as a rock now, Alexis? I feel completely frozen and can’t move. I don’t even think I want to. Blink, Richards, blink." -Alexis What happens to someone who has everything figured out and doesn't let anyone rattle her? To some love is exciting. To her, it's a nuisance.

Come on Princess," he sighs, as he scoops me up off the sand and carries me to my room. "I'm not going to be able to sleep, unless I know you're safe.

Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again! For so the night will more than pay The hopeless longings of the day.

Come to me in the dark, bring me all of your scars. I want to know every crack in your heart, every ache, every memory that haunts you. I want to see the realness in your face, the way your eyes stay light even when you talk of pain, and the way your lips are uneven when you smile. The grooves carved into your soul have made you beautiful and I want to run my fingers across the etches. I know people cover wounds and disguise their damage, but this is what makes you, you, and I want to know you. I want to sink inside of you and feel your depth. Don’t protect me from your story. We all have a story and I’m tired of drowning alone.

Conditional love. Far from Gods original love.

Conozco lo suficiente bien la vida como para saber que no puedes contar con que las cosas permanezcan intactas e inmóviles, por mucho que te gustaría que así fuera. No puedes evitar que la gente muera. No puedes evitar que se marchen. Ni si quiera uno mismo puede evitar marcharse. Me conozco lo suficientemente bien como para saber que nadie puede mantenerme despierto o impedirme dormir. Eso también lo llevo dentro. Pero tía, esta chica me gusta.

Countless people live their whole lives without ever knowing this...this unnameable thing that we share. This exclusive and secret club that we are so blessed to be a part of. I suppose that by many people's definition, it would simply be called 'Love'. And yet, this is unlike any other love or feeling or emotion that I have ever felt. Simply calling it 'Love' would be an injustice...it would do a massive disservice to this feeling that seems to envelop me with every breath I take. It's as if wherever I go, it goes; and whichever direction I look, it sees. It moves with me as if we've been doing this dance forever...like we are one being and of one mind. It has to uncanny ability to affect change by just existing; it speaks to me and with me and through me and every time it says my name, it cloaks my entire being with a warm comforting familiar glow...like it's only ever meant to be said that way and no different. It's not just simply love...it's everything.

Dear Judy Blume, why didn’t you write a book about how to survive talking to your centuries-old, super-duper experienced, smoking-hot soul mate about sex for the first time ever? That book would have been extremely helpful in preparing me for this incredibly awkward situation.

Creation of a pregnant imagination.

Curioso como a mãe do Gil, sem saber ler nem escrever, compreendera que Gil tinha de pintar, absolutamente de pintar, nem que para isso ela tivesse de se sacrificar, de se estafar, de morrer. Intuição e grandeza nascem com as pessoas, do mesmo modo que o talento. A sua mãe não fora dessas mulheres. Não que lhe não quisesse bem, esse querer bem, que corresponde a ver realizados nos filhos os sonhos que não soube realizar.

Cursed,” he once cried in a fit of rage. His temper has always been as restless and unpredictable as the sea itself. But his words had power behind them and I felt the effects instantly. Too late to take it back.

Defend myself? I cannot defend the verbal repressions of a boy. A curmudgeonly, cantankerous, ill-tempered, counterfeit boy.

Desperation will drive you to do things you know will never make you whole again and even to lose the very thing you’re desperate for.

Derrick, you have to make the air move out of her tummy. You are not assaulting her. You're saving her from a stomach ache. ~Anne Howard

Depression is evil. Before you know it, it takes over and there's no escaping it.

Did you fall asleep?" "No. I couldn't sleep that night." "You were restless?" "I was thinking of you." The answer almost unmanned me. Something in the tone, even more than in the words, went straight to my heart. It was only after pausing a little first that I was able to go on.

Despite any warnings, she continued to move towards the flames he had ignited within her. Her limbs tingled as the fire spread, each touch of Alex's hands and lips caused a wave of cinders.

Did you want to change into something more comfortable?” Adrian asks with a raise in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not away from naughty thoughts. I smack his knee. “I'm comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies. “You're right,” he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad? Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now. He smirks. “You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest. I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.” “So if I'm not wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise.

Distance creates love

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

Do not censor yourself. Let go of that part of your brain and just be.

Don't focus on the words i write, pay attention to the ones i don't. These lines won't tell you much about me, try to read in between these lines.

Don't cry after my death, I won't know it. Love me when I am alive.

Do you realize you can buy an oceanfront house in Newfoundland for $10,000? Perched on granite cliffs rising several hundred feet in the air. In a small working fishing village equipped with high speed internet, a store, a school, a medical centre, a community hall, a ferry service, a bed and breakfast, and a church. With a surprisingly moderate winter climate and a pace of life unlike any you probably know. Where whales break the ocean's surface a short distance from your front door, while bald eagles soar overhead. And where, on a nice day, you can see France - St. Pierre and Miquelon - as you stroll the boardwalk.

Don’t worry. You’re lost. The best of us are, but you will find your way. The universe is everything, all that is tangible and all that is not. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the scheme of things. The world is wondrous and mysterious, but he will reveal himself to you when he is ready.” He paused. “We are all connected, but we don’t realize how. You, me… We’re all connected… somehow. Sooner or later it will all be revealed to us.

Epic love story has only love between two people but do not have 'they lived happily ever after

East Hollow is full of tormented souls.’ I remark, only to hear his chuckle, his eyes moving forward just in time to step out of the way of a wayward man with armfuls of carrier bags. ‘Now that is the attraction.

El este cel care îmi dă aripi să zbor sau cel care mi le frânge.

En la ciudad se rumorea que un amor contrariado ha sido la causa que la impulsó a tomar esa trágica decisión

Especially considering that she was already here, fully intending on giving herself to this extraordinary, handsome, outrageous man who was so hard to leave.

ERIC: What are you always writin' in that book anyway? RODNEY: Poetry. TYRONE: Poetry? Rodney stops sketching and sentimentally flips through a few dozen pages of sketches and handwritten poems and notes. RODNEY: Poetry and pictures. Snapshots of our lives developed in the darkrooms of our souls." From CENTRAL PARK SONG -- a screenplay

Esther wanted to make her brother understand that he was the sun. That he was bright and burning and brilliant, and without his warmth, without his gravity to orient herself around, she would be nothing. She wished they had that psychic twin thing, that she could push images into his head and make him see. Make him see that he was everything.

Every child should be nurture with great love. The feeling of great love promotes wellness and potential for greatness.

Every moment of contact between us seems important—every glance, every touch, every word. I don’t understand him, but I know him, and he knows me. It’s this strange connection we share. No matter how often we fight, lie, make mistakes, I choose him and deep down, I think he chooses me, too.

Every love story is a tragedy, in the end, but that's what makes them so beautiful, so cherished in the minds and hearts of those who remember them.

Every part of you was made for me. Your lips were made to kiss mine, your eyes were made to wake up to me looking at you in my bed every morning, and your fucking tongue was made to roll my name off of it. I am more certain of us than I'm certain I require oxygen to breathe.

Everyone has their love story. Everyone. It may have been a fiasco, it may have fizzled out, it may never even have got going, it may have been all in the mind, that doesn't make it any less real. Sometimes, it makes it more real. Sometimes, you see a couple, and they seem bored witless with one another, and you can't imagine them having anything in common, or why they're still living together. But it's not just habit or complacency or convention or anything like that. It's because once, they had their love story. Everyone does. It's the only story.

Everyone needs beauty. Even beautiful people" From "Central Park Song

Everyone you meet has a part to play in your story. And while some may take a chapter, others a paragraph, and most will be no more than scribbled notes in the margins, someday, you'll meet someone who will become so integral to your life, you'll put their name in the title.

Every success story has a secret, Even if it’s a love story.

Everyone of us has that moment in our life, when you wanted to say NO but say YES even when you know it’s not going in your favor.

Everything depends exclusively on emotions.

Everything feels right with her. I can’t explain it. The world just stops. Everything freezes. It’s me. It’s her. It’s just us. Everything else, every molecule, including the oxygen we breathe, is only secondary to the chemistry we create. When we watch a movie it’s more than images strung together in the form of mindless entertainment. It’s an experience. An experience we share together from making the popcorn to watching the film to talking about it for days after. Chemistry. What more can I say? You either have it or you don’t.

Everywhere I read, I see a rush for love, if it comes knocking and your not ready you'll miss it; bla bla fucking bla... If love is, LOVE it wouldn't miss me and if it did, it wasn't worth my time to begin with. Never should the most important emotion of our journey be rushed.