Best 692 quotes in «broken heart quotes» category

It is wonderful what God can do with a broken heart, if He gets all the pieces.

It must happen to everyone. The last time you make love, you can't know it will be the last.

I try to date, but I take it so seriously. I am bad at having a casual relationship, so I kind of don't.

It's a shame, she had me convinced that she could've been a dime. I guess I lost another one to the wintertime.

It's really good to be able to think about past loves without having a pit in my stomach, or cringing or feeling heart-broken, or like they hate you. Don't you think?

It's the same old story you've heard a thousand times. Somebody's trust gets broken. Somebody's left behind.

It took me realizing that a broken heart has never actually killed anyone to find the courage to ask for what I want, in just about every situation. That was part of my own growing up.

I've never had my heart broken.

I was at the pinnacle of my career one day and the next day I was put out to pasture. I felt like a race horse with a broken leg.

It's easy to be led astray when you're so broken. People take advantage of you.

It's hard asking someone with a broken heart to fall in love again.

It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.

It's sad, but a relief as well, to know that two things so closely bound together can separate with so little violence.

It's the nature of hearts to break. It's in their job description. When a heart is doing what it's supposed to be doing, it holds nothing back. And sometimes it gets broken.

I turn you out of doors tenant desire you pay no rent I turn you out of doors all my best rooms are yours the brain and heart depart I turn you out of doors switch off the lights throw water on the fire I turn you out of doors stubborn desire.

It was only later that I suffocated under the weight of his arguments, and his darker thoughts articulated. It was only later that our tongues produced landslides, that we become caught in the cracks between what we said and what we meant, until we could not find each other, did not trust the words in our own mouths.

I wanted impossible things. I wanted my life with her before it all turned bad. What I had been given had been taken away and now I was even less than before.

I will find a way to you if it kills me if it kills me if it kills me (I think it might kill me).

Letting go, it's so hard The way it's hurting now To get this love untied So tough to stay with this thing 'cos if I follow through I face what I denied I'll get those hooks out of me And I'll take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side Kill that fear of emptiness, that loneliness I hide.

Kill all the men you have slept with. Put the bones in a box and send it into the sea with flowers.

Life will not break your heart. It'll crush it.

Life is wonderful, so revel in its beauty. Be all you can be, and let go of the past. It is nothing but shadows.

Love: a burnt match skating in a urinal.

Losing love is like organ damage. It's like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This? It can go on forever.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.

Love can be magic. But magic can sometimes... just be an illusion.

Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.

Love is a great poet, its resources are inexhaustible, but if the end it has in view is not obtained, it feels weary and remains silent.

Love is a kind of warfare.

Love is a promise delivered already broken.

Love is a state in which a man sees things most decidedly as they are not.

Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.

Love is something that hangs up behind the bathroom door and smells of Lysol.

Love, love, love – all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures, a welter of self-induced miseries and joys, blinding and masking the essential personalities in the frozen gestures of courtship, in the kissing and the dating and the desire, the compliments and the quarrels which vivify its barrenness.

Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.

Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

Love myself I do. Not everything, but I love the good as well as the bad. I love my crazy lifestyle, and I love my hard discipline. I love my freedom of speech and the way my eyes get dark when I'm tired. I love that I have learned to trust people with my heart, even if it will get broken. I am proud of everything that I am and will become.

Love was like a steamroller. There was no avoiding it; it went over you and you came out flat.

... love was an illusion which civilization had produced to give a little order to the frequency of the sex act.

Love was more than blind. It was deaf and dumb, too. It was catatonic. It was vegetative.

Love was like rain: it turned into ice, or it disappeared. Now you saw it, now you couldn't find it no matter how hard you might search. Love evaporated; obsession was realer; it hurt, like a pin in your bottom, a stone in your shoe. It didn't go away in the blink of an eye. A morning phone call filled with regret. A letter that said, Dear you, good-bye from me. Obsession tasted like something familiar. Something you'd known your whole life. It settled and lurked; it stayed with you.

Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything.

Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.

Marriage, children-you never expect it to end in tragedy. Unless you're me.

Marriage is a desperate thing.

Marriage is an arrangement by which two people start by getting the best out of each other and often end by getting the worst.

Maybe one day we shall be glad to remember even these hardships.

Maybe part of loving is learning to let go.

Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.