Best 692 quotes in «broken heart quotes» category

If you want to heal a broken heart, Be smart! That's all an ancient art. Start by loving the very small parts That were left there shattered apart.

...I had dragons sleeping within,” I said. “Dragons I didn’t know were there. And nothing awakens a sleeping dragon more like happiness and all things good.

I had learned to love smiling. I smiled, made eye contact. I was sincere. I still am. I had no qualms looking someone in the eye, smiling, and saying, “Hi. I like you.” It was my way of branding them “friend.” It’s something I practice to this day. If I love someone, I waste no time in telling them. Life is too short.

I had someone once who made every day mean something. And now…. I am lost…. And nothing means anything anymore.

I hated checking my voicemail. I associate it with matters of importance and nothing ever was. Such a pain. I also hated guests, change, interruptions, and the feeling I got when someone came to my door. Anxiety, terror, then the arousal. I wanted him to leave and afterward I would indulge in a bit of fantasy.

I have a fear of relationships,” I began. “When I love, I love easy, deep, hard, strong, and long. But I can not marry. I can not live with anyone. I can not accept gifts from anyone or let anyone close enough for intimacy.

I have poured my heart out …. And now I am empty.

I just can’t do it anymore. It’s too painful. It doesn’t mean I’m over you, it means I’m not going to waste the rest of my life being haunted by your memory.

I just wanted to tell you, how beautiful you were; that day, that night, that life.

I knew this for a fact. Little by little, the ache to see him, to hear him would disappear. Little by little I’d forget how his arms felt, how his fingers felt, how his lips felt..the sound of his voice, the intensity of his gaze, all of it. Trace by trace it would slip from my mind, recede into foggy memory. The painful haze that dulled my present would melt into the past. Maybe not all the way, maybe there would be a few scars. Maybe I'd be different, but I’d be me again. Little by little.

I knew where I was. It had been too long. I blinked back the image and tried to clear my head. I had to remember which world I was in.

I know now, what is the worst thing about broken heart. I am not dead.

Il dolore. Fa male. Mi sento morire dentro. Ti prego, aiutami», la supplico, piangendo. «Vorrei poterlo fare, Vi. Ma l’unica cosa che toglie il dolore è il tempo. Passerà, te lo prometto. Andrà via alla fine.

I’ll give you until dawn. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll answer. Whatever you wish, I’ll consent.

I'll keep looking- till that watery reflection of mine in your eye, rolls down as a tear. I'll keep looking till we finally look away like our lives never met. Let's cheat destiny as if we never knew each other. Let's do this last thing together.

I made promises to you that I'm not sure I can keep.

I miss that feeling of connection. Knowing he was out there somewhere thinking about me at the same time I was thinking about him.

I must have truly been under his spell, believing anything is acceptable when you're in love.

I need to stop running back to you in my mind all the time.

Ingenuousness is skewed by the cracks in the mirrors of the eye caused by the blunders of the insincere

I learned my most priceless lesson of all from that place. I learned how to teach myself. ... Hand me a book and I could do anything.

I learned to take very little. I learned to want nothing more. I learned something else during those nights. When all the world slept, a new silence settled into the forest. With candle in hand and dressed in gowns of gossamer, I would slip out into the night and dance to the sound of silence. Barefoot, I would spin then lay in the cool grass in a strip of moonlight. I would lie there all night and gaze up at the stars, so silent, so clear there in the wood, and so, so far away. I lived between worlds. The war, my reality, my hell and this world in the forest of fantasy. And I’m stuck. I can’t go back. I forever toggle between two worlds and one is ever so much more real to me than yours.At night, beneath the moon, I didn’t need my worlds to escape. I only needed to open my eyes and see the world as it was. Quiet and calm and at peace, just as I still see it. I escaped through my music and wrote poetry to ease the pain…and letters. I poured so much of my heart into the letters I wrote to Erik, who I could see so easily on the other side. I still have them. Every letter I ever wrote him. During those times, when the world was dark, Erik became more real to me than anything else. He was quiet. He listened. He held me in the silence. He played his violin for me. And he loved me. When I cried, I closed my eyes and felt him envelope me. Only Erik and the cats ever came. No matter how long and loud I cried, my parents, no one ever came. I was fourteen. I was alone and all I wanted was for someone to love me.

I love easy, judge no one, laugh often, and smile always. I listen, I love, I joke, I support, I comfort. I keep my tears in check, my emotions in check, and my heart is forever open. I am not jealous, I give you freedom, speak my mind. I do not lie, and will never seek to change you or hold you down. And I hold all the passion of Ireland in my heart. To boot, I took the time to learn what a man wants and needs…in and out of bed. I don’t cook. And I can not be had. If you’re lucky, I’ll love you. Don’t ever love me back. I’m only worth a dollar.”... “I didn’t choose loneliness. I simple chose to accept it! To stop fighting it. Once I did that, my war ended. What I chose was to no longer bring anyone down with me. I am a black widow. I am the worst kind. I am the widow who destroys lives, kills hearts, and shatters dreams and walks away, leaving the man a hollowed shell and a life that resembles mine. And I do this without wanting or meaning to. I do it without knowing I’ve done it at all! “But I, unlike them, am broken. I’m fucked up so much that I can live quite comfortably with my lot. While others—normal people, unbroken people—can’t. No one is scarred enough to live with me. Not Isaiah. Not even Raven. So, no, William. I am too broken to be loved.” ... “I found the tunnel’s end and the light that shines from the other side of sanity. Who others have done what I have done and have emerged unscarred, unscathed, and as kind as I? I am still smiling a warm and sincere smile. While others emerge cold and cruel and vile.” “I have simply come to terms with what I am and I know if I were to change this about me, I could not live as I do now, happy and content and alone. If I try to fix this mess I have become, I will not survive it. And will do more damage than good. No. There are no others like me. I am very much alone, as I will ever be.” ... “My needs are met,” I assured him and smiled. “I am smiling with my head held high. I am smiling with my face to the sky. And although I am dying inside, I am crying with my head raised high. I only wish to love greater than I have hurt. And I will spend the rest of my days laughing and smiling to compensate for all the crying I have done.

I love you in my very own way. Like a stone loves the mosses around it Like a sea loves the pebbles in it Like a coincidence... Taking you as the way you are, With all the bruises, scars and broken parts all around you and your heart. I love you in my very own way By throwing the stone, the mosses, the sea and the pebbles to your head Like i want to kill you. Just because of envying the love That my heart spend on you.

I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you!”You can hear that only so many times before you believe it. During those times, I slipped into my worlds. The more I read, the more worlds came to me. I added a subterranean lake that was illogically bathed in moonlight to my list. Those worlds—that lake, the room with the onyx cats, and Ireland—they all became very real to me. Much more real than the life I lived where a monster threatened to kill me on the other side of the door.

In a way, it was the same as any normal break up. You took what was yours …. and I kept what I’d had from before we were together… You took my heart …. and I had nothing…

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you. And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you. No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) With you (This world is only gonna break your heart) What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) No, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) With you.

In the Eastern story, the heavy slab that was to fall on the bed of state in the flush of conquest was slowly wrought out of the quarry, the tunnel of the rope to hold it in its place was slowly carried through the leagues of rock, the slab was slowly raised and fitted in the roof, the rope to the great iron ring. All being made ready with much labour, and the hour come, the sultan was aroused in the dead of the night, and the sharpened axe that was to sever the rope from the great iron ring was put into his hand, and he struck with it, and the rope parted and rushed away, and the ceiling fell. So, in my case; all the work, near and afar, that tended to the end had been accomplished, and in an instant the blow was struck, and the roof of my stronghold dropped upon me.

In this story I am the poet You're the poetry.

In times of trouble, people need artists. We create those spaces where their own pain and worry and sadness can rest, and where their broken hearts can hope again.

In trying to determine where that breaking point was, they actually toughened me up for anything they could dish out and I learned to loosen up and take it. I learned to ease up and laugh. ... They taught me to truly throw my head back, laugh, and enjoy life.

I realize that it's not that difficult to remember what people like, especially when you care about them.

I remembered. I had thrown it away all those years ago when I closed the lid of my piano and walked away. Music had been the largest line that tethered me to my pain and the first of the lines I killed to ease the hurt.

I remember dying a slow, painful death, the kind that leaves you hating the world. I was like a worm. I wove myself a cocoon of dragon scales and there I stayed. ... I shunned emotion, hated all, and embraced logic. I was cold and callous. I had given up. While the trees withered and died, so did I. I turned my heart to stone that autumn.

I Remember Years Ago, Someone Told Me I Should Take Caution When it Comes to Love, I Did So Tell Them All I Know Now Shout it From the Rooftops Write it On the Sky Line All We Had Is Gone Now Tell Them I Was Happy and My Heart is Broken All My Scars Are Open Tell Them What I Hoped Would Be Impossible

I saw through a black veil of misery and remorse and indecision and fear; and there was a feeling as if I carried a small leaden coffin in the place of my heart.

I scrub my skin to rid me from you and I still don’t know why I cried. It was just something in the way you took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn’t recognise the emptiness you left me with when you were done. Maybe you thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to you and us and all the rest. But then you must have changed your mind or made a wrong because why did you leave?

I see you everywhere In the scratched mirrors The dusty pages The empty chairs And in the sad songs that everyone else seems to avoid For you did have a habit of always Breaking the things that once were whole, Making hell out of homes, And leaving souls starving for the things you’ve been feeding your heart on all along …

I slipped in and out of worlds that weren’t there. I wrote letters to fictitious characters. I was passing into catatonic states more times than not. It required a concerted amount of effort to keep myself here in this world. I was a runaway. I tried to slit my wrists. I was clinical, and I knew how to hide my condition.

I smiled to hide the hell I lived. I smiled to hide the darkness. On the surface, I smiled and grinned and laughed. I had mastered my emotions. What emotions I feel, I allow. No one suspected my wars.

In life we don't always get what we want; hopes and dreams get washed away so easily, hearts are broken, chances are missed, and we always seem to end up right back where we started.

I slid back into my mind and slid once more to my worlds. The wind and the green of Ireland flooded back to me and the clouds moved in from the sea. I threw my head back to the skies and smiled. I could hear the stream nearby and wasted no time seeking it out. She called to me and I listened. I found the stream and I followed through the wood. How I missed my forest, my cottage, my realm. How I wished for nothing else, but to stay there until I died.

Is that what you meant when you said the more you love a person the harder your heart breaks?

I still think of you every day. But I’m trying not to let it hurt me with the same intensity that it used to.

I stood in my room. I shifted my feet on the white marble. Sunlight poured into the room like a golden waterfall. I looked behind me. The two cat statues of black onyx flanked the door. The bed was made up with a silk sheet. The water fall shower fell from the ceiling into the pool. It all was still here. The white gauze curtain swayed in the window and I grinned. I could not help but grin. I entered the balcony and looked down at the river that fell into the ravine. As always, I could jump and I would land in the pool below. I could smell the earth and the green. I could feel the wind and the spray of mist carried on the breeze like never before. It was real. I could touch it.And I knew, beyond the trees was my cottage and stream.

It didn’t hurt me. Not “hurt”. Hurt is a four letter word. It’s short, almost cute sounding. Aawwww, did that hurt? No. It didn’t hurt. Destroyed, Obliterated, Desecrated, Annihilated, Demolished, Shattered, or Demoralised maybe… But no. It didn’t hurt me. It didn’t “hurt” me at all.

In my sleep I have my nightmares, awake I have my thoughts, I am not sure which is worse.

It felt good being independent and I loved it. Space. That was something familiar to me. That was something I could understand. Before my first kiss, I prized my solitude and had learned to associate safety and security in isolation.

I think about you. But I don't say it anymore.

I think it’s the whole ‘bad boy who’s so good but destined to break your heart’ fantasy. Which doesn’t sound like much of a fantasy when you put the broken heart part in the picture, but it is. It so is.