Best 451 quotes in «lover quotes» category

72. It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep me company within it?—No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink—Here you are again, it says, and so am I.

A friend or an enemy can tell me something about my subjective being, a casual lover can judge my body — the man I love judges my entire being. Every one of his caresses tells me how I am: attractive, desirable. Every one of his questions and answers tells me what I am: a person with whom he wants to enjoy himself, who interests him more than all the others he knows. By choosing me among all others, my love has made me unique; I alone in all the world am the one he loves, and no other. If I am lucky in love, the definitions become more precise from day to day; after each date I know even better than before what I want to know about myself. The others can say what they like about me; I don't have to believe a word of it. Only the one I love can tell me about myself. Since his definitions grow increasingly precise, my dependence on him also grows more acute as time goes on, but he is in the same position with regard to me. I tell him that I belong to him alone, that he can do with me what he likes, that I cannot live without him.

A chronic poet should always be an inveterate nature-lover.

Adversity does not just introduce a man to himself. It also introduces, to him, his family, his friends, and his partner.

A good enemy can be better than the best of friend.

A good lover? One percent talent and ninety nine percent hard work.

A good lover is a person who knows how to love deeply but never expects any in return.

A heart in love is a thriller book of many stories

All kinds of people read poetry: revolutionaries, scholars, sentimentalists etc. But above all else, lovers read poetry. Why? Because we fell in love. And then we fell in love with love.

A humanitarian seldom makes a good lover. For a lover’s world revolves around their lover, while a humanitarian’s world revolves around the world.

All I need to do is place my pen against paper and your love writes for me.

All you need to get by in this world is the memory of love

A mother's hug is better than a lover's kiss.

A lover becomes a light when he or she enlightens world of someone.

A mother's hug is greater than a lover's kiss.

A love-story is a book to be read by everyone whose heart beats for someone!

A man's love for a woman is not defined by his availability in bed, but by every ingredient he adds to improve the taste of the relationship.

Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one's breath.

And even though they had not had sex yet, he was a great lover, replacing sex with the science of bravery and inner strength. Meredith had always wanted a man with this kind of depth.

Ask of your eyes to see only to seek love. Ask of your mouth to speak only to utter words of love. Ask of your hands to feel if only to touch the lover.

And that is what we do with a lover And no you're not that That you made sure

Angus was courting me with lines that stabbed deep in lonely, barren places. Like an unfair conqueror, he was delivering his words with an accent that had me dreaming of castles and lochs, and strong thighs under a rough kilt.

And there’s you, with your purity and beauty. You unyoke me. We lie on the bed, closer than a hand in a glove, yet I still experience this distant ache. I miss you even in your presence. How did love find me when I hid from it so masterfully? How did love know when to strike? I look into your infinite eyes and can say nothing. Because there, in front of me, lies everything. And you unyoke me.

And there's you. You're just beautiful. Effortlessly beautiful, like nature. You have the trinity of beauty: a beautiful heart, a beautiful mind, and a beautiful soul.

A soulmate is a direct pathway to God.

A true lover is like a flower.

A true lover never demands a naked girl with him,rather he feels her presence all the time with him

A tomboy is a bisexual girl’s dream lover.

A true lover never wants anything but gives with all his heart.

A woman never thoroughly cares for her lover until he has ceased to care for her; and it is not until you have snapped your fingers in Fortune's face and turned on your heel that she begins to smile upon you.

Aus abgewickelten Flügeln des brennenden Schwans nachdem blutmeer aus der grünen raupe geboren wurde Diese Haut scherte den Mond vom Unterbauch der Wolke befahl den Wellen, die Horoskope auf den Brüsten der Krabben abzuschaffen . Auf der immergrünen Epiglotis des Lotus randvoll Die pollengeplapperte Honigbiene winkte mit ihrem Doppeltuch suchte nach einem betrunkenen Dorf voller stolz rot schlagender Menschenmenge summende Lieder, die nebeneinander in besorgter Entfernung schlafen

awake, then die in the arms of a modified lover sleep, then dream in the absence of a tangible lover envision, then sing in the thralls of a hungry lover

Autumn is here and I am in love. My heart has taken residence in my mind. I pick the crisp ochre leaves and put them in my pocket. I am in love.

A writer's partner should be a good reader...otherwise she/he will get bored what's happening around.

Beauty is dad kissing mom's hand when it cramps. Beauty is seeing a Persian woman dance. Ugly is not the absence of beauty. Ugly is the inability to identify it. The inability to be surprised by it. It is the persistent reluctance to be made a child by it. Beauty is simply the manifestation of love.

Beauty is the manifestation of love.

...because loving you is a crime. Which I love to commit each time, every day, whenever I see you, because that's how I love you.

Being deeply, passionately, and intensely in love is being deeply, passionately, and intensely in life.

Being divorced does not necessarily make one’s advice on marriage useless … or useful.

Being called ‘love’ or ‘my love’ by someone doesn’t necessarily mean that you are loved or even liked by them.

Before you, nothing. Now you, and everything

Being constantly in touch with your own sensuality develops you into a more intuitive person who knows how to minister to the hidden needs of the one(s) you love.

Bella. "Nathan Malone is dead." He caught her shoulders, shook her. "No!" she screamed back. And she couldn't hit him. She wanted to, and she couldn't. "look at me," he yelled. "Look at me, Bella. What happened killed the man you loved. All that is left is this. The man you see now.The name name I carry now. Anything else is no possible." "No!" She pulled away from him, stumbled to her feet, and shook with the rage pounding through her. "The name may be dead, but you are not dead. "You weren't just a SEAL," she cried. "You weren't just a friend, or a son, or a grandson, or a brother. You weren't just a warrior." She clenched her fists, pressed to her stomach as the agony swell up through every cell of her body. "You are my husband. My lover. It doesn't matter if your name is Nathan, Noah, or hey fucking you, you are my my lover. My soul. My heart.

Be like the sun who fell in love with the moon and shared all his light.

Believe me when I say: 'Out of all those around, she’s the best locksmith in town.' Her stethoscope ears know when the dials of your heart click into place. She’s been cutting keys for years. You don’t stand a chance with that flimsy case. Alas, no matter how you lock your heart— bolt, fixture, and key— she’s got nimble fingers that pick locks for free. Padlocks and deadbolts are all in vain. Why do you even bother with that chain? She’s way too smart. Along with ours, she’ll have your heart. And you will see that the best locksmith in town is she.

Break open your heart so that I may enter it.

But what can you do with another person's beauty? The satisfied lover is as little able to possess the beauty of his beloved as the one who hopelessly observes it from afar.

But not you, O girl, nor yet his mother, stretched his eyebrows so fierce with expectation. Not for your mouth, you who hold him now, did his lips ripen into these fervent contours. Do you really think your quiet footsteps could have so convulsed him, you who move like dawn wind? True, you startled his heart; but older terrors rushed into him with that first jolt to his emotions. Call him . . . you'll never quite retrieve him from those dark consorts. Yes, he wants to, he escapes; relieved, he makes a home in your familiar heart, takes root there and begins himself anew. But did he ever begin himself?

By encouraging the critic in themselves (the hater) they have killed the artist (the lover).

Christ is Love; Love is everything; therefore, Christ is everything! Whatever is hidden from you is in Christ for you!