Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.
Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.
'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Empty pockets never held anyone back. Only empty heads and empty hearts can do that.
Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.
Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.
No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I thought when love for you died, I should die. It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.
Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo.
To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet.
How do you know love is gone? If you said that you would be there at seven and you get there by nine, and he or she has not called the police yet - it's gone.
There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -- whatever that dream might be.
Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.
The best way to mend a broken heart is time and girlfriends.
There are many persons ready to do what is right because in their hearts they know it is right. But they hesitate, waiting for the other fellow to make the make the first move - and he, in turn, waits for you.
You say that love is nonsense. I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.
Trouble is a part of life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough.
When a love comes to an end, weaklings cry, efficient ones instantly find another love, and the wise already have one in reserve.
Love is a great poet, its resources are inexhaustible, but if the end it has in view is not obtained, it feels weary and remains silent.
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