Best 1596 quotes in «heartbreak quotes» category

Learn, Teach, Love, Experience and Grow. That's what I know about this life we live.

listen girl,’ Medea says, ‘you are not the first person in the world to suffer from a broken heart. but i will treat you like you are. listen girl. he is not calling out your name. your name to him is nothing. it might have been before. once, your name might have been the only word he knew when he was blind sad or bursting with sun. those days are over. your name can only exist in your own mouth now. say it over and over. say it until it doesn’t sound like a name, but just a sound. the promises he made you are just sounds now too. remember that. your hands are what will hold you together now. and you want to be mad? be mad. here is a plate. throw it through his window, listen to the crack. the shatter. laugh into the night. call yourself the sun. see, you will rise. and are you less of a woman for this? no what is woman? woman is this–enduring. listen girl, you will get over this– you will. but what fool said you had to do it silently? here is a tip – scream

Logan looked at her and wondered how someone so beautiful could be so oblivious to their own beauty, how someone so smart could be so foolish to the extent of their own intellect and how someone so loving and compassionate could ever think she wasn’t worthy of love? It was like watching a blind man trapped and wandering aimlessly and helplessly in a scorching hot desert unable to see the small puddle of water that lay just a foot away. The only difference was that she had eyes. Two beautiful ones, yet she could not see. Is that what madness was? Was it to be able to view and appreciate every form of beauty but to be blind to the value and exquisiteness of one’s own? Logan believed in many forms of insanity but he knew in that instant watching her trembling frame on the train tracks that hers, that her illness, surpassed any clinical or psychological term known. Maybe she did suffer from depression or bipolar or schizophrenia. Who knew? All he was certain of in that moment that she suffered from no greater illness than the blindness of the heart.

Logan felt like Icarus. He had never felt so free and blissfully alive as he did whenever he was with her. The closer he got to her the higher and happier he felt. Even at the mention of her name his heart would pound incessantly and all the giddy feelings he didn’t quite understand would suddenly reemerge. Every glance upon her blinding beauty cast a shadow upon every other girl for him. Everyone else paled in comparison to her. With every passing moment he had somehow discovered something new and exciting about her. With her by his side he could feel the light breeze flapping against his sides and the warmth of sunshine beating down on his handsome face. This is what it meant to be truly awake. This is what it meant to be in love. But just like Icarus he had gotten too close and had crashed and burned. As he lay crippled in the aftermath of his own destruction he wondered what hurt more the aching pangs of physical pain his body had been subjected to or the raw burning sensation he felt in his heart. He had gladly given her his heart and in return she threw it back in pieces claiming it wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t enough.

Loneliness is the fare that you pay to be free.

Looking back, I wonder if mom saw it in my eyes: the storm clouds gathering, the dry crackle of electricity in the air. But it was already too late. No warning sirens were going to save me. I guess you never really know the danger, not until you’re the one left, huddled on the ground, surrounded by the pieces of your broken heart.

Lo que no puede ser no puede ser y además es imposible.

Losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill.

Lotte wanted Francoise to stay the night, but she wouldn’t. Francoise thought of movies, usually thrillers, in which the hero gets out of bed during the night, dresses and slips out, leaving a beautiful woman asleep and unaware. Francoise wished she could leave like that, but her film was a realistic one. As she walked back to her apartment she thought that getting out of the relationship had been as awkward and messy as Lotte’s pulling her finger out of Francoise’s ass.

Love alone means nothing unless you have a tortured heart for it to soothe.

Love does as it undoes. It goes after with equal tenacity: joy and heartbreak. Her happiness was his unhappiness and that's the unfair way it was.

Love changes people, for the better or the worst.

Love doesn't mean career, money or success. It goes beyond all mundane needs to impress. You can even find your passion and your bliss. But without love there's just so much you miss.

Love doesn't go away just because you realize you can't be with someone

Love doesn't leave you. Not all at once. It creeps back in, making you think it can be another way, that it can still be another way, and you have to remind yourself of the reasons that it probably won't be.

Love is about heartbreak, If you think it’s fulfillment, happiness, satisfaction, union, it's even more heartbreak.

Love is a gamble, heartbreak is the cost. But never lose hope, for love is never truly lost.

Love is a kind of killing, Addy," she says. "Don't you know that?

Love is An invited deal for losing peace

Love is Future End that you live in you in present to forgot something opposite of your expectations.

Love is floating somewhere in the beautiful horizon with an equal wave length with same frequency of intense feelings

Love is just like the flower; it has hidden depths that we rarely ever explore. Beneath the surface lies a network of roots. You can admire the flower for what it is, or you can dig deeper. The more you dig, the more you will find. The real reasons we love a person sometimes exist in the darkest and deepest part of us, the part that knows no logic…or rationale.

Love is not a thing you can pick up and throw into the gutter and pick up again as the fancy takes you. I am a person, very unfortunately for you, with a quite peculiar dread of thrusting myself or my affections on any one, of in any way outstaying my welcome. The man I would love would be the man I could trust to love me for ever. I do not trust you. I did outstay my welcome once. I did get thrown into the gutter, and came near drowning in that sordid place.

Love is not leaning on each other, adjusting to fit a different size. Love is simply two hands reached out in the darkness, saying; I’ll be your light, if you’ll be mine.

Love is such a cruel thing. One minute you've been texting them for hours, hoping he'll ask you ask on a date, or just telling you how he feels about you. Next minute, he's saying the stupid, "No it's me not you. We can just be friends." While I'm crying my eyes out hoping you may take me back. Cause I don't want to be friends.

Love is when Looking at a glance at you I found laughter in my eyes, Thoughts turns into jewels Where luster of your aura dwells

Love is when unknowingly I am moving to a world of no return, Where my desire and your fragrance together burn all your thoughts in canvas of my mind and soul turns in to a masterpiece as my life's aim and goal looks I am taken over and over away by you showering in me as a rain of you and only you

Lonely’s a different kind of pain, it doesn’t hurt as bad as heartbreak. I preferred it and embraced it ‘cause I reckoned it was one or the other.

LONG YEARNING Long yearning, To be in Chang'an. The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well; Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold. My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts; I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain. The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds. Above is the black night of heaven's height; Below is the green water billowing on. The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit; The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard. Long yearning, Breaks my heart.

love can embellish its beginning sing its blossoming and engrave its eternities but can never explain its loss.

Love did not die. I still create your image to my heart every solitary night.

Love can give you such happiness, then can break the very heart it filled, leaving a hole that can never be fixed or protected by any armour.

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

Love doesn't break us just the words we say to ourselves as we wait for the real thing

Love doesn't just go away without a sign or a reason. Things have happened along the way that caused it to grieve and to depart. Like all gifts, love has to be taken care of. It has to cherished and protected by those to whom it is given, and not just by one partner but by both.

Love has turned to be a sad tragedy of my life even we both are alive

Love Is An Act Of Valour.

love is giving everything too easily then staying to try and claw it back

Love is breathing each other with all madness

Love is not for thrill-seekers, dreamers, or children with short attention spans. And you, son, fit into all three of those categories.

Love is not blind but if the heart has to choose between pain and loneliness, it will choose pain every time.

Love is only made more valuable by the risk of heartbreak.

Love is the soul's reward for all the previous heartbreaks...

Love is where unseen and unsaid things merge with each other where silence is thirsty of happenings

lovely lion, with your claws twelve inches long, won't you sink your teeth into the back of my neck once more? won't you parade me around, march me to and fro, showing me all there is to know, and telling me i am your sweetest pet? lovely hawk, with your talons made of lonsdaleite, won't you pluck me from the earth once more? won't you soar into the sky, with me in your clutches, at blinding speeds, showing me all i deserve to see, and telling me i am your only darling? is this not love dear lion, dear hawk? shall i forever wait in the savannah, in the meadow, where you tossed me aside, longing to be picked up again?

Love, now that was dangerous. It plucks your heart out of your chest cavity and throws it into the skies where all you can do is watch it freefall towards the object of your love, and hope he or she would catch it. And very often your heart would land with a sordid, painful thud on the ground, or worse, a ditch, and lie there forlorn, neglected and pitiful until you found it, picked it up, glued the various parts back together and put it back into your chest where it would continue to beat on, stolidly, with only you knowing that there was a beat missing. A beat audible to no discerning ear, but your own, a slight sense of being out of tune with yourself, a heart that beat reluctantly, for the sake of keeping up appearances, in the forlorn hope that some day it would get back in rhythm, that some day it would have something to beat for. And then, over the years of missing a beat, you would grown irretrievably out of beat with yourself, and end up discordant.

Love's a game where the odds are permanently fixed. The house always wins, and anyone stupid enough to sit at the table is lucky if they walk away with their soul intact.

love wishes she was blind. love has to watch unflinchingly as fist after fist makes contact and then she has to take a breath and continue on.

Love turns men into boys; heartache turns boys into men.

Love was the greatest thing, wasn't it? Love was what we had that no one else had or could ever have? And you were a genius and I was your whole life. I was your partner and your little black flower. Slop. Love is just another dirty lie. Love is ergoapiol pills to make me come around because you were afraid to have a baby. Love is quinine and quinine and quinine until I'm deaf with it. Love is that aborting horror you took me to. Love is my insides all messed up. It's half catheters and half whirling douches. I know about love. Love always hangs up behind the bathroom door. It smells like lysol. To hell with love. Love is you making me happy and then going off to sleep with your mouth open while I lie awake all night afraid to say my prayers even because I know I have no right to say anymore. Love is all the dirty little tricks you taught me that you probably got out of some book. All right. I'm through with you and I'm through with love. Your kind of picknose love. You writer.