There are some experiences in life they haven't invented the right words for.
I feel like Iβve been split open and stuffed with sunshine.
No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.
Time has no meaning, Love will endure..
I told him I was going to betray you, and betray Lyra, and he believed me because I was corrupt and full of wickedness; he looked so deep I felt sure he'd see the truth. But I lied too well. I was lying with every nerve and fiber and everything I'd ever done...I wanted him to find no good in me, and he didn't. There is none.
Growth in love comes from a place of absence, where the imagination is left to itβs own devices and creates you to be much more then reality would ever allow.
We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.
One can be very much in love with a woman without wishing to spend the rest of one's life with her.
Iβm a fake fact factory. The things I make are the things I make up. Also, as a side business, I make love. Actually, I just made that up.
I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue; one can't love and do nothing.
She was bendable light: she shone around every corner of my day.
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, donβt hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, thatβs often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, donβt be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)
What's your heart telling you to do? I don't know.' Maybe, you're trying too hard to hear it.
All the problem of women, starts with men. All the problem of men, ends with women.
Soul meets soul on lovers lips.
Sonnet 130 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
In fairy tales, the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life, the pricesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs.
Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.
I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with the scent of him.
But whatever However Whenever this ends I want you to know That right now I love you forever
