When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It's safe. Let go.
If we must part for ever, Give me but one kind word to think upon, And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking!
Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.
I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?
After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?
They should tell you when you’re born: have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel.
Unhappy love freezes all our affections: our own souls grow inexplicable to us. More than we gained while we were happy we lose by the reverse.
What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose.
We love because it's the only true adventure.
The end / of passion / may refashion / a friend.
Once, when I was young and true. Someone left me sad - Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse.
while nearly every way of falling in love is kind, every way of getting out of love is cruel.
Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.
All love shifts and changes. I don't know if you can be wholeheartedly in love all the time.
When one door closes another door opens. Usually a refrigerator.
An agony. The exit like the entrance - but reserved. A palindrome: gut-tug.
These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.
Real, sane, mature love—the kind that pays the mortgage year after year and picks up the kids after school—is not based on infatuation but on affection and respect.
Romantic love is an illusion. Most of us discover this truth at the end of a love affair or else when the sweet emotions of love lead us into marriage and then turn down their flames.
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
Marriage becomes hard work once you have poured the entirety of your life’s expectations for happiness into the hands of one mere person. Keeping that going is hard work.
It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar.
I feel like someone after a deluge being asked to describe the way it was before the flood while I'm still plucking seaweed out of my hair.
every healthy marriage is composed of walls and windows. The windows are the aspects of your relationship that are open to the world—that is, the necessary gaps through which you interact with family and friends; the walls are the barriers of trust behind which you guard the most intimatesecrets of your marriage.
Every intimacy carries secreted somewhere below its initial lovely surfaces, the ever-coiled makings of complete catastrophe.
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