Best 1752 quotes in «lovers quotes» category

Oh, how I wish I was a woman—his woman.

Oh, why fill the heart with yesterday and tomorrow when this moment is all the heart needs? Let the heart be present, let the mind be here, let the eyes see, let the ears hear, let the soul witness, let the words flow ... down this gentle river, you know the way. Why must the eyes know exactly where and why must the mind know exactly how and why must the heart know exactly what and why must the soul know exactly when? It doesn't matter. In the same way that the headlights do not need to show from here all the way to your home before you get there, the headlights just need to show the next few feet. And if the car continues to move, with the headlights showing just the next few feet, you can make it home from anywhere. So in the same way, let the heart, let the eyes, let the mind, let the ears, let the soul, let the touch of this moment feel what is here ... without focusing on what will be there. Allow the essence of this, and this, and this, and this to enrich your life. Be with this now. Witness the tree as you pass by and watch the birds fly to it, drawn to it in the same way that bugs are drawn to lights. Let your heart be drawn to this moment, let your soul be guided by what is here, now.

Once when I asked you if you still loved your wife, you said, Love leaves the back door open. Later, you said, Love like a hospital gown opens at the back. And you slipped out.

Once fallen in true love, a person can't really fall out of it, no matter what. How much ever you try to hate your better half, you'll end up falling more instead. Some part of him will always reside in your heart.

Ô, Muse of the Heart’s Passion, let me relive my Love’s memory, to remember her body, so brave and so free, and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me, and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me, Ô, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!

One joke is enough to put a smile on your face. One hug is enough to put a smile on your heart. One kiss is enough to put a smile on your soul.

Once we’ve savored the goodness of a hundred years until the final drop, only the fleeting memories of intoxication is left behind. Between you and me is it too much to ask for a bottle to begin with?

One day of being in the presence of someone you love is better than a thousand years of being in the presence of someone you admire.

One of the rarest and most beautiful things in this world is to meet someone who has the ability to intoxicate you. Every moment with her was exhilarating, and every moment without her was spent captivated by thoughts about her. She was like the finest of wines. And I was getting drunk.

One realizes the immortality of true love only after the lover dies

On top of old Smokey, All covered in snow, I lost my true lover By courting too slow. On top of old Smokey, I went there to weep For a false-hearted lover Is worse than a thief. For a thief he will rob you, And take what you have, But a false-hearted lover Will put you in your grave. They'll hug you and kiss you And tell you more lies Than cross ties on the railroad Or the stars in the skies. So come all you young maidens And listen to me: Never place your affections On a green willow tree, For the leaves they will whither And the roots will die, And you'll all be forsaken And never know why.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

On Paper * some call it poetry but it is just pain on paper _____________________ rassool jibraeel snyman (c) 2015 "The Poetic Assassin

Our could always run but we could never hide Our souls crave this magic.

Our demons are friends,

Our eyes will know the heavens if our lips stay for each other.

Our hearts speak the same language but more importantly our souls share the same voice.

Our love survived love.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

Our souls stretched across time, spanning the universe in search of each other and suddenly, there it was...life, love, desire, all we had to do was indulge...

Our story is the kind that sets emotions on fire

Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

People say it's hard to be away from the people you love but it was so hard to be right next to him.

Perfectionists talk about first love. Realists talk about true love. Optimists talk just about love.

Perfume counters in department stores, Holly Deblin smells of, the middle of July, and cinnamon Tic Tacs.

Please… Whoever you are, whatever you are… I believe in you even though I don’t completely understand you. I feel you around me even though I can’t exactly describe what I’m feeling. Sometimes things happen to me and I know that you’re there and I’m humbled by the lack of coincidence that exists in the world. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours — just please help me. You know how I get when I lose control, and I find myself constantly being pulled back there these days.

Only few moments of love has greater value than entire life

Our bodies were printed as blank pages to be filled with the ink of our hearts

Paint me by numbers and colour me in watercolour half tones.

Parting from you is sad for me but meeting you after the parting is an amazing happiness.

Passion lingers on a state of bliss Love loves you more when you kiss

Passion stimulates you, love intoxicates you, marriage sobers you, and parenthood tries you.

People can go on telling themselves things like “Think before you speak!” or “You don’t believe that yourself” or “Forget it!” But they can also say, “Oh, what lovely flowers!” or “Are you a phone freak or something?” or “Suit yourself,” or “This record makes me feel so happy!’ Wonderful! Words are delightful little gifts we exchange like the Easter eggs we paint and hide for others to find and enjoy. I’d forgotten that, but you reminded me of it.

...perhaps, also this short embrace may infuse in their veins a little of this thrill which they would not have known without it, and will give to those two dead souls, brought to life in a second, the rapid and divine sensation of this intoxication, of this madness which gives to lovers more happiness in an instant than other men can gather during a whole lifetime.

Pragmatism is good prevention for problems.

Pretty people are a dime a dozen and sex can be had with a complete stranger......but crossing paths with one who awakens within you a poetic melody that echoes throughout the depths of your soul, that is one of life's truest delicacies.

Prue’s attention stayed on their joined hands. “What does it feel like to be touched by a man, Rosie?” The madam grew serious. “I’ve worked in a tavern for many years, honey. It’s been a long time since I was young and innocent like you.” “Please, Rosie,” Prue begged. “Tell me what it was like before you came to work at the tavern. Were you ever with a man?” Rosie nodded. “I was, Prue.” “What was it like?” Tears welled in the madam’s eye’s, long ago memories returning to her. “It was the most wondrous pleasure you could ever imagine.” Hearing a knock on the door, Rosie quickly wiped away her tears. “W-who is it?” -from Mistress of Purity

Pleasure can turn the body into a slave. Desire can turn the mind into a fool. Passion can turn the heart into a beast. Love can turn the soul into an angel.

Plucking a rose only proves you desire it, but nurturing it proves you love it.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

Reaffirm your love for one another and let grow.

Red eyes, clogged vessels, tanned cells and septum holes, She came up to me with an ashtray, and a bunch of tobacco rolls, I mean, how can I fill the gap that you've created?? How could I switch the clock back to the past, for the time I have wasted? I have gone a sedate now; the heart has stopped pumping zeal into my head, And for the hole in my heart, which is so dead now, which has run out of life now, I carry the loads of moments that you've endowed.

Realizing that many you once thought the world of are nothing but glorified assholes means you've grown up.

Ridges of muscle on his stomach rose under his skin like divisions on a slab of chocolate. He held her close by the light of an oil lamp, and he shone as though he had been polished with a high-wax body polish.

...Quando Isabelle alzò lo sguardo ebbe l’impressione che il cuore le si fermasse. Stava risalendo insieme a Jeanne la scalinata che dall’Orangerie riportava al castello dopo avere verificato che per loro quella poteva essere la via di fuga perfetta la sera dello spettacolo. Era emozionata e non vedeva l’ora di fare ritorno alla locanda per potere parlare liberamente dei dettagli del piano che aveva in mente con l’amica, quando all’improvviso si era trovata a guardare un uomo il cui sguardo avrebbe riconosciuto in mezzo a mille. Jacques. Lui era lì a pochi passi da lei e quell’incontro non aveva senso. Perché mai Jacques si trovava lì a Corte,a Versailles e per giunta vestito da aristocratico? No, c’era qualcosa di sbagliato. L’uomo che aveva amato e che ancora non riusciva a dimenticare non era un semplice borghese che rientrava da un viaggio all’estero? Forse però quella era semplicemente l’idea che lei si era fatta di lui, dopotutto Jacques non le aveva mai detto chi fosse realmente. «Cosa c’è?» domandò Jeanne vedendo l’amica ancora immobile e visibilmente sconvolta. Poi alzò lo sguardo anche lei e vide quel giovane bellissimo e riccamente vestito che fissava l’amica. Se però a lei quel volto non diceva nulla, diversamente fu quando il suo sguardo si spostò sull’altro uomo che intanto aveva raggiunto Jacques e si era fermato accanto a lui. «Oh mio Dio» mormorò Jeanne. La situazione che si era creata aveva qualcosa di surreale. Isabelle, Jacques, Jeanne e Nicolas che si fissavano l’un l’altro lì, immobili su quella scalinata e con le prime fredde gocce di pioggia che cominciavano a cadere sui loro visi. Il rombo del tuono annunciò che il temporale era ormai arrivato. Sembrava che il tempo fosse congelato. Nessuno osava fare un gesto o pronunciare una parola. Infine fu Isabelle a parlare per prima. «Tu...qui?» riuscì a dire. Gli occhi azzurri di Jacques puntati in quelli verde smeraldo di lei. “Dio quanto è bella” pensò l’uomo avvicinandosi alla giovane che aveva lasciato due mesi prima. Vedere quegli occhi, quei lunghi capelli corvini legati in una treccia come ricordava di averli visti quella prima sera insieme alla locanda… e poi quel semplice vestito bordeaux che metteva in risalto il colore ambrato della sua pelle nonché le sue forme che ancora ricordava così bene. Il ricordo di loro due insieme era ancora troppo forte, troppo vivo in lui e quell’incontro non aveva fatto altro che riaccendere i suoi sentimenti e il suo desiderio. «Isabelle» fu tutto quello che l’uomo riuscì a dire. Aveva sceso gli ultimi gradini della lunga scalinata che ancora lo separavano da lei e se avesse allungato un braccio avrebbe potuto sfiorarle il viso con la mano...

Relationships are never complicated. You’re either together or you’re not. If someone says it’s complicated, it really just means someone’s killing time until something better comes along.

Religion is a good time pass, better than philosophy, and a million times better than love; love is a wastage of an era.

Relying on one person can make you dull so broaden your outlook, find new friends and have new experiences...Life is waiting for you to live...

Reminiscent of a diamond, she is gifted, privileged, and positioned to glisten.

Returning to bed, Rachel strokes Zachariah's black curls as he drifts into sleep and appreciates the shape and fractal geometry there, the self-similarity and infinity of scale. She breathes in at his scalp, then presses her ear to his, listening for the clamour of voices within, to the long line of fighting men who made him, his head a seashell. There is a template for the fighting man. Rachel listens across three times nine countries, as the fairy-tale saying goes, across three times nine countries in the thirtieth tsardom . . .