Best 6234 quotes in «relationships quotes» category

Investing in your mind is the best investment you can make.

Investing in yourself is one of the foundations for better relationships, health, happiness, success, and prosperity.

Investments are about the return they provide in increased opportunities, prosperity, health, wealth, happiness, joy, and success.

Invest time, energy, and money into increasing your knowledge and wisdom so you can become the best you can be – it’s the best investment you could make.

I once found an ego, crawling around and trying to shine on me. I took it in my arms and the ego turned itself into a virus. First it took over my mind, then my heart, and finally attempted to destroy my soul by corrupting me with fear and guilt. Therefore, with as much energy as I could gather, I trapped the ego within my anger and pulled it out of me. Once on the floor, the ego begged me for mercy and compassion, promising to give me joy in return. I allowed it once again into my life, and again, it tried to hurt me once more, this time with abandonment. So I unveiled the ego for what it truly was, and that was resentment filled with desire for power, a power the ego was feeding from me, from my compassion and willingness. Now unprotected by deceit, the ego shown itself weak and scared. In panic, it run from me, boasting a delusional victory. And when it looked back, searching for another chance, I stepped on it. But believe me, it hurt me far much more than it hurt the ego.

I overheard a young man once saying to his wife, "I can't control you. That's the problem and it's been the problem ever since day one!" And then I heard her answer him and heard her terrible voice. "No!" she said. "The problem isn't that you can't control me, the problem is that you're trying to. Why don't you stop worrying about controlling me and start worrying about controlling yourself?

I only accept your mistakes and flaws to the degree that I accept my own.

I opened the door and stepped in. Raw pain filled me at the sight of my painting. 'Show me what it looked like, before the fire.' His request surprised me, but I did as he asked. With eyes closed, I projected the exact details of the painting I had poured my soul into. Just as I had experienced his love of surfing in a visceral way, he shared not just the visual beauty of my work, but the love and passion with which I had dedicated myself to it. 'Thank you. Now, it will never truly be gone.' I choked back a sob and went to Mr. K's office.

I pictured Cupid sitting in a crappy little bar, drunk and depressed, while he moaned to the bartender, "That Jasmine Parks, gods, she pisses me off! Did you see what she just did? Totally blew off this immortal stud to play kiss-the-boo-boo with a fickle little rent-a-cop. Why? 'Cause she's the biggest chickenshit on the planet! I'm ready to toss my bow and pick up a bazooka!

I pretended to be a Cheyenne guide. I pretended to be a prairie woman. I pretended Henry was my old-timey husband taking me to our new homestead. I leaned down and patted Trouble’s neck. “Good boy,” I said. “Trusty steed.

I realised something else tonight. Something about pancakes.’ ‘What about them?’ ‘We both got so obsessed about that first pancake being thrown away that we forgot something really important,’ Max explained. ‘That first pancake tastes just as good as all the other ones. It’s not its fault that it was first in line and the pan wasn’t hot enough so it got a bit lumpy and misshapen.’ ‘And when you’re really famished that first pancake tastes better than all the ones that come after it,’ Neve said, and then she couldn’t wait any longer. Her arms were around Max before she’d even finished forming the thought, but his arms were around her too in that exact same moment. Just having him there to hold, warm and solid and real, was enough for five seconds, and then she was peppering his face with kisses – his forehead, his eyebrows, the tip of his crooked nose, along his cheekbones until she reached the glittering prize of his mouth. Sometimes Neve thought that her appetite was the most robust thing about her, and she didn’t kiss Max so much as she devoured him. Graceless, messy kisses without any thought or reason, but simply because she hungered for him. Kissed him with everything she had and everything she was, and she didn’t know why she could kiss Max and have him kiss her back with the same fierceness but still be greedy for the next kiss and the one after that and the one after that and the one…

I realised I had a stream of thoughts about him which ran for the most part below conscious level. I noticed jets spurting up from this stream: comparisons with other relationships I knew of which had weathered massive changes and shifts of balance; small crumbs of hope he would find he missed the familiarity of my company, or that his gestures of comfort meant more than a gentle goodbye. I grieved for these hopes, and their hopelessness.

I put down my phone... Hugged her from behind… Kissed the back of her neck... Our fingers entwined… Bliss…

I quickly learned that it takes a lot more than good looks and passion to maintain long-term love.

I read once that sorrow looks back, worry looks around, and faith looks ahead.

I read things that male relationship experts write about women and I read things that female relationship experts write about men, then I feel a true sadness in my heart. Why can’t there be a simple, pure, direct openness? Why can’t there be a simple, real, open trust? The truth is that male or female, gay or straight— we are all people— we have all been broken and put back together in so many different ways... it’s really just about learning how to recognize the sound of the other one's cracks. And that’s what it’s really about, just that.

I realized that I'm lonely without her and she's incomplete without me. There will be no end to our love story..

I realize the thing about a guy you've spent your whole life loving from afar is that even though he's real you've really made most of him up.

I recall as a child when I got so hostile that I didn’t know whom to trust anymore, and then I would still act as if everything was alright. I would put that brilliant smile; which people love about me still right away. I am told to have the very beautiful smile, that smile became my signature throughout my life.

I recently heard a talk about identity in which the speaker said it's almost as though we are born into a world in which we are constantly being labeled by others -- our parents, our friends, our family, and people we don't even know. Each person, from the outside looking in, comes up with a label to slap onto us without our permission. Some labels are kind and some are truthful, but many of them are lies. And sometimes we leave the negative labels on so long that we believe what they say; we allow those labels to define us.

I remember when all of my dreams were in rainbow. Now, everything I do I have to Technicolor because it's all become so black and white... so subtle hues, no longer Prismacolor me and you. I sharpen those pencils, but they still come up dull. I shade and shade and shade, but it all comes up a shady review. I miss the rainbow when my dreams were caught all throughout the day; and not just late at night, when I couldn't sleep because everything was dark, and too steep to climb, and only in rhyme because I have not become THAT gray poet.

I remembered only the good and loveable things about him, not the wretchedness he caused me, and the dope, and the resentments and silence and the half-crazy outbursts. I remembered his smell and the colour of his eyes and his head thrown back to laugh; these things were a second away, in time, but the others I dredged up dutifully, knowing that I must, for the sake of truth and sanity, try to keep a balance.

I remember that summer we walked up the hill, sat atop on the rocks with time to kill; we let sweet red wine set us aglow, then four drunken eyes watched the sunset show I felt the colors enter my veins: warm light-pink shining golden rays; if there was a hue for happiness, I'm sure I saw it with you then

I rubbed my head trying to fend off the headache I was sure this conversation would bring me.

I respect a woman who can respect me when I'm not around.

I saw a sadness shivering in his eyes that night. They resemble a heart flat-lining. I wanted to ask him what put it there, but he blinked... and it was gone. And I knew that a man who could control pain so exquisitely had no business paying with my heart.

I said I love you about a million times. Maybe not the actual words, but in every other way.

I save a piece of paper that has the indentation of your name on it— your signature... ...move. I knew that I shouldn't have let you push down so hard. Your memory left a mark on so many pages after, if you couldn't tell, as I publish again to press on....

I saw under the sun the place of judgement, …that wickedness was there; And the place of righteousness, that iniquity was there. …I said in mine heart, 'Who shall judge the righteous and the wicked:' for there is a time for every purpose and for every work.

I see that even as the world plunges into darkness and peril, you two stand around discussing your love lives. Teenagers.

I see the echo in your eyes & your beautiful voice still causes my mind to dance in circles around my heart, enticing it to rise & love again.

I see the pain of miserly love in young people,' I say. 'You don't have that kind of melancholy on your face. But I'm careful not to step on your feet when I speak with you. It's not like dancing. It's like a stone walkway with a little grass between the cracks. It's strong but I will try to tread carefully and not ruin it. In Muslim homes you leave your shoes outside. This is how I behave with you.

I see the universe in your eyes

I shall now explain my plan. You may then speak, but only to amend the detail. The broad outline is not subject to negotiation. Are you ready? Good … I propose to have sex with you. I believe it will be excellent sex. Your obedience on one particular issue of timing it will be required to make it unforgettable sex. I will explain that issue as we go. At the moment, I wish to hear your inevitable objection to the general sex part of this plan.

I shall not attempt here to describe my marriage. Some impression of it will doubtless emerge. For the present story, its general nature rather than its detail is important. It was not a success. At first I saw her as a life-bringer. Then I saw her as a death-bringer. Some women are like that. There is a sort of energy which seems to reveal the world: then one day you find you are being devoured. Fellow victims will know what I mean. Possibly I am a natural bachelor.

I should warn you in advance that I want you to know me and why I became a sugar baby. Most people aren’t comfortable with the idea of older men dating younger girls and exchanging money, so it’s important to me that you get why I did what I did. And I want you to understand that the difference between being a sugar baby versus being a prostitute is the connection. Although sometimes “sugar dating” is just a code for escorting, those people are just not doing it right. To really sugar date correctly, you have to feel something for the man who takes care of you, and he has to feel something for you. And you won’t feel anything for either of us if I don’t tell you all the good and bad parts of the story. And believe me, there are a lot of good things and a lot of bad things to this story.

I simply took refuge among women. As you know, they don't really condemn any weakness; they would be more inclined to try to humiliate or disarm our strength. This is why woman is the reward, not of the warrior, but of the criminal. She is his harbor, his haven; it is in a woman's bed that he is generally arrested. Is she not all that remains to us of earthly paradise?

Is it not funny, in the presence of an unlimited God, we will still be stucked? Sometimes faith overwrites the fact, that some people have not come to realise. Stop giving excuses and telling God what is happening around you. You have the tools.

I sit here with you now with one sure answer. Love is the most potent bond, the most elaborate trap, the most irresistible object, and the most lethal weapon. I am everything with it, and nothing without it.

Is it your background, then?" Lord Franton smiled and shook his head. "That need not worry you. You're a wizard now; what you were before does not matter to me." "Yes, it does," Kim said softly. "Because part of the time you're sorry about it, and part of the time you think it makes me interesting, and part of the time you ignore it. But you never forget it.

I sit on a rock and watch children playing in the park below They don't see me Or know my thoughts Or that you haven't called But I forgive them their indifference today Above me a crow caws Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dress Or my anger But he flits away over the trees Probably has a home Probably has a wife Probably knew to call The children leave The coffee in my can turns cold The wind nips at me Some street lights flicker on But I won't move Not yet I will wait for the night to chase me Back where I came from Up the empty street To a quiet house

... I slipped our wicker bed and walked the sands where we were also roughly repeated: some young couple, "you did," "I didn't," "you sure the fuck did" – they hugged that bicker to their chests like blankets fighting cold.

I slept like a rock Coming through my window Woke up with new light

Isn’t that why we commit to another? It’s not for sex. If it were for sex, we wouldn’t marry one person. We’d just keep finding new partners. We commit for many reasons, I know, but the more I think about it, the more I think long-term relationships are for getting to know someone.

I sometimes wish that the two of us would have first gotten to know each other later.

Isn't it funny how we all will end up? Best friends today, communicating via internet tomorrow. Crush today, dancing at their weddings tomorrow.

I spent most of my adult life in relationships some good, some bad. It took years for me to realize that I was the common denominator in all of these relationships and I needed to love me first.

I spent half my childhood trying to be like my dad. True for most boys, I think. It turns with adolescence. The last thing I wanted was to be like my dad. It took becoming a man to realize how lucky I’d been. It took a few hard knocks in life to make me realize the only thing my dad had ever wanted or worked for was to give me a chance at being better than him.

I spent the day running through the woods like a wild animal. Being chased by you is the only thing that would have made it more romantic.

is that what relationships become? A reduced version of the hurt, nothing else let in.