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Infatuation Quotes

Browse 468 quotes about Infatuation.

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Infatuation Quotes

“The sad truth of it was that he was too weak to move out. Not physically, but in every other way under the sun. If he left, he would miss the pancakes. He’d miss the syrup. Three times a day, she pricked him with a needle to make sure he was burning it all off and not going diabetic again; if he moved away, he’d miss that too. A little bloodshed was a negligible price to pay for the brief but electrifying thrill of having her touch him. Honestly, the ritual stabbings were fast becoming his favorite part of the day.”

LoveHumorRomanceInfatuationRomantic Comedy
Book:Homewrecker
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“Years ago, Michelle had created the four-point Jasmine Scale to track Jasmine's progression--or descent, as Michelle called it--into love. The first point on the scale was Attraction. It was the curiosity phase, where Jasmine started to wonder about the guy and noticed all the cute and charming things about him, usually while ignoring glaring flaws and red flags. Next came the Crush. In the Crush phase, Jasmine amped up the flirting, getting physically closer and making it obvious that she was interested. The third phase, Infatuation, was where she started to lose her sense of self and all good judgement. She made herself too available and did too many favors for the guy in question. After that, there was only one more step left: Falling in Love, where she threw herself headfirst into the emotional abyss.”

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Book:You Had Me at Hola
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“But lately she had been starting to experience strong, inarticulate feelings of longing, of a desire to be with Joe all the time, to inhabit his life and allow him to inhabit hers, to engage with him in some kind of joint enterprise, in a collaboration that would be their lives. She didn't suppose they needed to get married to do that, and she knew that she certainly ought not to want to.”

LoveRelationshipsInfatuationShared Life
Book:The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
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“I laughed to myself although there was no one there to see me. I loved when he was available to me like this, when our relationship was like a Word document that we were writing and editing together, or a long private joke that nobody else could understand. I liked to feel that he was my collaborator. I liked to think of him waking up at night and thinking of me.”

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Book:Conversations with Friends
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“I'm sitting naked on the edge of the bed with my legs ajar, caressing soft parts; marveling at the pulchritude of her navel. I look up to admire the magnificent curvature of her perky breasts and her endearing smile. I was never in love with her desire to undergo cosmetic surgery. I was then, and have fervently remained, in love with her happiness.”

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Author:A.K. Kuykendall
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“What if love wasn’t a mysterious “thing” that capriciously attached itself to whomever it willed? Could it be instead a deliberate choice of action? Jesus had commanded His followers to “love one another.” Would He give such a commandment if people had no control over their ability to love? And does that mean that romantic love between a man and woman can be cultivated, just as Mrs. Kingston cultivates her roses? She recalled standing at a window facing the Anwyl and determining that, like Saint Paul, she would learn contentment. If contentment could be achieved through an act of will, then why couldn’t love? And it would seem that a love purposely cultivated for a man because of his kind nature and comforting ways would eventually grow stronger and deeper than one based on mere physical attraction.”

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Book:The Widow of Larkspur Inn
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“Chloe's holiday story was dull, but its dullness was no longer a criterion of judgment. I'd ceased to consider it according to the secular logic of ordinary conversations. I was no longer concerned to locate within its syntax either intellectual insight or poetic truth. What mattered was not so much what she was saying , as the fact, she was saying it. And that I had decided to find perfection in everything she might choose to utter. I felt ready to follow her into every anecdote, I was ready to love every one of her jokes that had missed its punchline, every reflection that had lost its thread. (...) I felt ready to abandon self-absorption for the sake of total empathy, to follow Chloe into each of her possible selves, to catalog every one of her memories, to become a historian of her childhood, to learn of all her loves, fears and hatreds... everything that could possibly have played itself out within her mind and body had suddenly grown fascinating.”

LoveInfatuation
Book:Essays in Love
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“To see you is to forget my name. To forget this tight collar and that delayed train. To forget the conflict with the landlady and the worry that my students won’t like me. These trifles lose themselves in the valleys of your brows and the seas of your hair. To see you is to forget my name. To forget if it matters what I do and whether what I do matters. To forget who I think I am and who I think I ought to become. To forget every past moment and unremember every moment to come. To see you is to forget my name. To forget myself and forget the world. These trivialities drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at me. Because to see you is to see you. Only you.”

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Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“My arm reaches up. I don't know if I'm reaching for the pipe or for him. I want to touch his skin. I want to breathe in what he breathes. The yellow swirl. I want to be the yellow swirl. I want him to breathe me in, be sent riding on oxygen molecules deep into lungs. I want to travel through his body, seeing what makes him happy, attaching myself to whatever place in him sparks to life on my arrival. His blood. His tissues. His muscles. I want to burrow inside the folds like a wind-blown dusting of snow so that each time I melt away, he seeks me out again. There's no delineation between the pipe and the smoke and his body. It's all whole, I want in. I want him. 'Please,' I say softly, 'let me try.' Without letting go of the pipe, he swings his hand holding the lighter with incredible force, backhanding my face. My jaw pops. The lighter swings back under the pipe undulating back and forth, inhaling the curl as it rises from the tar, exactly the same as before he hit me, only now he's staring at me, hating me.”

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Book:I Am Not Myself These Days
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