Best 692 quotes in «broken heart quotes» category

My father had started counting every penny he put into me. Every dime. Every dollar. He couldn’t give me a gift or hand me food without telling me how much I took from him. How selfish I was. How much my existence cost him. I had decided that I was worth exactly a dollar and if my father had to choose between the dollar and me, he would choose the dollar. TV was far more valuable.

My heart is broken and I grieve, for I have known love. Your heart is broken and you grieve, for you have not.

My heart is responsible of My Pain & Heart Breaking ... So I not Blame Any One ...

My heart’s been empty since you left - but still I refuse to put up a vacancy sign. I’m just not ready for anybody else to move in yet.

My life is just full of broken pieces, no tomorrow. All I can see is…broken pieces of tomorrow.

My Love tears me between the addiction of patience and urge of infinite desire

My mother was beautiful, but insecure, and she boosted her lack of confidence with boasting and bragging. Every story was embellished. Every truth, exaggerated. The rule with my mother is simple. Believe nothing.

My music had been my solace and I lived without it for ten years.

My smile forever glows in my eyes and I know it. Too many men have told me this. I’m lethal.

My world is a million shattered pieces put together, glued by my tears, where each piece is nothing but a reflection of YOU.

NEVER DOUBT THE POWER OF PAIN. PAIN CAN HELP YOU SEE LIFE WITH CLARITY, IT CAN BOOST YOUR MIND AND INCREASE CREATIVITY, AND IT CAN HELP YOU ACHIEVE SUCCESS AND PROSPERITY.

Never underestimate the grace of bouncing back from a fallen heart.

Newton's laws of physics can rarely be applied to the real world. There is more to life than cause and effect. Things just aren't that simple

...Ni siquiera lo había estado buscando, no a ti, y ahora eras lo que mi corazón deseaba.

—Ni siquiera sé por qué vine—dijo ahora con furia después de mirarme intensamente —Simplemente sé que cuando lo supe, tú eras la única persona en la que podía pensar, la primera persona que apareció en mi mente. —Aquí estoy para ti, nunca olvides eso, yo jamás te voy a dejar. —¿Por qué? No deberías hacerlo, yo solo te he hecho sufrir, no me merezco que me apoyes, deberías echarme, odiarme, burlarte de mí desgracia. —Porque yo nuca podría dejarte, ni burlarme de ti, te amo y no importa lo que hagas no voy a dejar de hacerlo. —Lo lamento, pero yo no puedo.

Nobody should have to choose between a cold heart and a dead heart.

No final das contas, era isso o que mais me doía, pois quando o amor se torna impossível, só nos resta uma alternativa. Amar em silêncio. Chorar em silêncio. Em segredo.

Nobody think about that broken heart... life goes on, broken heart never join together but it tries very hard to get joined again. That;swhy may be it said "Heart is like a mirror, if its broken can never be joined.

Nothing felt like mine anymore, not after you. All those little things that defined me; small sentimental trinkets, car keys, pin codes, and passwords. They all felt like you. And more than anything else, my number - the one you boldly asked for that night, amidst a sea of people, under a sky of talking satellites and glowing stars. You said no matter how many times you erased me from your phone, you would still recognize that number when it flashed on your screen. The series of sixes and nines, like the dip of my waist to the curves of my hips, your hands pressed into the small of my back. Nines and sixes that were reminiscent of two contented cats, curled together like a pair of speech marks. You said if you could never hold me or kiss me again, you could live with that. But you couldn't bear the thought of us not speaking and asked, at the very least, could I allow you that one thing? I wonder what went through your mind the day you dialed my number to find it had been disconnected. If your imagination had raced with thoughts of what new city I run to and who was sharing my bed. Isn't it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours. Someone else's ring tone, someone else's broken heart. These are the things we inherit by choice or by chance. And it wasn't my choice to love you but it was mine to leave. I don't think the moon ever meant to be a satellite, kept in loving orbit, locked in hopeless inertia, destined to repeat the same pattern over and over - to meet in eclipse with the sun - only when the numbers allowed.

Not all scars show, not all wounds heal. Often we don't see, the pain someone feels. A broken heart is like having broken ribs. No one can see but hurts everytime you breathe.

Not his real home, his real home, the one he never named any more, was the dark and sooty chamber in his heart that contained his sister and his brother and, because it was an accommodating kind of space, the entire filthy history of the industrial revolution.

No one can hurt me now 'cause i have stopped permitting them.

No" she jerked back, stared up at him. Her eyes were like thunderclouds. He'd never seen them like that. Shock and fear filled them. Her face was paper white. Her body shuddering. "Don't you leave me!" She gripped his shirt and tried to shake him, tears falling from her eyes. "Don't you leave Noah." His head lowered. He touched her lips with his and knew this woman held the best part of him. The memories of the husband he had been, the man he had been. He couldn't destroy that. He refuse to. He pushed her to Jordan slowly, loath to let her go. To release her. Knowing that releasing her was the only way to save the memories she held. "Don't you leave!" She screamed the order, eyes blazing, her lips trembling as tears fell and hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. "If you leave me, Noah Blake, if you don't come back when this is over, don't bother coming back at all. He touched her cheek. Ran his thumb over her lips. "You are the best part of me," he whispered. "Always remember that, Sabella. The best part of me." Before she could grab him, hold him to her, he pulled away, grabbed one of the rifles Mike had set on the table across the room. And left.

Oh, how I longed to be heard just once. Perhaps that was why I always spoke my mind. I was tired of not being heard.

Of course she wants him to forget her. The last place she wants to reside is in his thoughts. What an unpleasant place to be.

One's suffering, one's melancholy is, in itself, really only looked upon as failure or as punishment, as detestable or sinful or socially unacceptable in the eyes of man; but this is not so in the eyes of God: for He is close to the broken-hearted.

Once broken, a glass will forever have cracks, even if you try to mend it. Same goes for a heart.

Our parting was like a stalemate…. Neither of us won. Yet both of us lost. And worse still … that unshakable feeling that nothing was ever really finished.

Only the broken heart has the ghost of a chance to grieve, to forgive, to long, to transform." Christina Baldwin, author of Life's Companion, Journal Writing as a Spiritual Practice, 1990. Used with author's permission

Online predators have mastered the art of sitting back and scanning a forum for a “target.” They look for females who brag and boast: first sign that the target is insecure. Then they move in and feel her out. They ask about her: what she likes, what she hates. Insecure people often and easily talk about themselves when barely coaxed. Within five minutes, a predator can determine if the target is close to her father or not. You absolutely want a female who has daddy issues because if the “pinch and grab” is to work, the predator must segregate the child from the parent as soon as possible. If the female has a good relationship with her father, this can never happen and the predator knows it. The female with a healthy parental relationship will confide in the father they trust and the father will move in to protect. The pedophile does this all while appearing sincere, genuine, loving, and affectionate. They compliment the target. Tell her things…like how smart or how beautiful she is. While they shower her with praise, they reinforce one message. “I accept you. I approve of you.” In truth, they are literally making notes as to what the target desires, dreams, and wants. They listen and reciprocate. The first three days are crucial for selecting a target. It’s all about trust and earning it fast. Time is of the essence. ... On day one, you want to select a target and study their wants, loves, hates, and weaknesses. Make an agreement to meet next day, same time, same place. This establishes a sense of dependency with the target. ... Shower with praise and develop a sense of acceptance. Make a request and watch her obey. Punish her with rejection. Reward with approval using gifts and compliments. All of this is impossible if a daughter knows her father loves her, and she isn’t needing the acceptance from others.

Our hearts are broken with pain at the senseless deaths caused by violence. Families mourn, children live in fear, and some now respond by arming themselves with more guns with greater capacity to end life. Our disconnection and alienation has caused some to turn to guns for protection and safety. More than ever we need love to flood our hearts and heal our brokenness, and turn us away from violence toward peace. There are many things worth living for, a few things worth dying for, and nothing worth killing for.

Out of frustrations, out of desperation, out of disappointments, out of mediocrity. out of idleness,out of limited insight, out of difficulties, out of insatiability, out of poverty, out of pain and the vicissitudes of life , so many people shall come to a conclusion that nothing is worth living for; not even what is solemn and sacred but, some shall always turn the woes of life into great land marks and indelible footprints worth emulating

Over the next eight years, music was the frequency I rode on to carry me through my darkest days.

Pain and misery are two different words, which both hurt.

Perhaps I was easier to shake off for you because you’re such a together person. I was just an extra layer on the outside… like a blanket you could shrug off and feel just the same…. except maybe a little colder…. But I was always a broken person that was haphazardly held together by little more than my own strength. And so you just seeped in the cracks and mingled with my insides until you became an inseparable part of me. And as painful as that is, it still kind of warms me to know I will always carry a part of you with me.

People—especially men—don't always know what they want. You try, and if it doesn't work, then you may quit.” With a broken heart. As if she'd read her mind, Abuelita frowned and scolded, “Hearts mend, but lost chances are gone forever.

—Perdóname por esto, pero ya no lo puedo soportar más. Él nunca me vio de la manera en la que te ve a ti. — dijo en el umbral de la puerta antes de irse. —Es como si él solo pudiera verte a ti y todo lo demás no existiera.

Perhaps the echoes of people we once loved still linger in the places we frequented with them and that is why we go back… Not so much to remember them as to feel them…

Past relationships are a loss, so we have to deal with them like loss. We must fully grieve. We must feel the depth of our pain so that our pain doesn't become the home where we learn to live.

Pensavo di avere più tempo, ma talvolta il domani non arriva e si rimane solo con i ricordi di ieri

Promises are about as good as already chewed-up gum.

Ponekad se dva slomljena dela savrseno uklope zajedno.

Quando poi abbraccia me, vorrei lasciarmi andare e crollare. Piangere, come quando avevo otto anni e mi ruppi la caviglia. Invece no. Ci teniamo stretti più a lungo del solito e facciamo fatica a staccarci.

Quando sarebbe stato pronto a ristabilire il contatto con l'amore, avrebbe avuto bisogno di qualcuno di forte, amorevole e comprensivo. Tutto ciò glielo avrebbe dato Marc, poiché lui aveva sentito tutta la forza dell’amore che l’uomo provava per suo fratello.

Roxy was my breath of fresh air. My soft place to land. She was home to me.

Relation is when each have Same words to speak, Conversation will be Awesome.

Revealing of origin , evidence the existence of hidden pearls in mind which is addicted to imagine and thought as well.

Reese, your books might not tell you this, so I will. Every heart has two parts, the part that pumps and the part that loves. If you’re going to spend your life fixing broken hearts, then learn about both. You can’t just fix one with no concern for the other.

Right after Matt died, I was afraid to do basically everything. I couldn’t even bite my nails or sniff my shirt to see if I needed deodorant without feeling like he was watching me. I willed and prayed and begged him to give me a sign that he was watching, that he was with me, so I would know. But he never did. Time moved on. And I stopped being afraid. Until right now, vulnerable and insecure and a little bit drunk. Lying in the sand and falling in crazy love with someone I just met. Matt is watching me. Observing. Possibly judging. And the worst part of it is, I don’t want to wake up under his landslide of sad rocks anymore. I don’t want to taste the marzipan frosting and the clove cigarettes. I don’t want to think about the blue glass necklace or the books he read to me on his bed or the piles of college stuff or some random boy in the grocery store wearing his donated clothes. I don’t want to be the dead boy’s best-friend-turned-something-else. Or the really supportive neighbor friend. Or the lifelong keeper of broken-hearted secrets.

Saying goodbye doesn't mean You don't love him anymore, Nor that you no longer will. It doesn't mean that you failed. It doesn't mean you're unlovable. It doesn't mean somebody's better, And that someone else can take your place.