“Jealousy is a disease, love is a healthy condition. The immature mind often mistakes one for the other, or assumes that the greater the love, the greater the jealousy – in fact, they are almost incompatible; one emotion hardly leaves room for the other.”
– Robert A. Heinlein
“After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.”
– Mark Twain
“Moving on is easy. It’s staying moved on that’s trickier.”
– Katerina Stoykova Klemer
“I envy people that know love. That have someone who takes them as they are.”
– Jess C. Scott
“People should fall in love with their eyes closed.”
– Andy Warhol
“And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It’s the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.”
– Lauren Oliver
“Okay. Then…I can talk. Ask me something.”
“Okay.” He laughs shakily in my ear. “Why is your heart racing Tris?”
I cringe and say, “Well, I…I barely know you. I barely know you and I’m crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think?”…
“Maybe you were cut out for Candor,” he says, “because you’re a terrible liar.”
– Veronica Roth
“I ask the impossible: love me forever. Love me when all desire is gone. Love me with the single mindedness of a monk. When the world in its entirety, and all that you hold sacred advise you against it: love me still more. When rage fills you and has no name: love me. When each step from your door to our job tires you–love me; and from job to home again, love me, love me. Love me when you’re bored–when every woman you see is more beautiful than the last, or more pathetic, love me as you always have: not as admirer or judge, but with the compassion you save for yourself in your solitude. Love me as you relish your loneliness, the anticipation of your death, mysteries of the flesh, as it tears and mends. Love me as your most treasured childhood memory–and if there is none to recall–imagine one, place me there with you. Love me withered as you loved me new. Love me as if I were forever–and I, will make the impossible a simple act, by loving you, loving you as I do”
– Ana Castillo
“It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can’t do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?”
I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.
“Because, he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, – you’d forget me.”
– Charlotte Brontë
