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Lover Quotes

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Lover Quotes

“It was not only Odette's indifference, however, that he must take pains to circumvent; it was also, not infrequently, his own; feeling that, since Odette had had every facility for seeing him, she seemed no longer to have very much to say to him when they did meet, he was afraid lest the manner - at once trivial, monotonous, and seemingly unalterable - which she now adopted when they were together should ultimately destroy in him that romantic hope, that a day might come when she would make avowal of her passion, by which hope alone he had become and would remain her lover.”

“The reason as to why we are attracted to our opposites is because they are our salvation from the burden of being ourselves.”

“To ask a man whether or not he has a girlfriend is to talk about his sex life. If you disagree with that, then how in the name of God do you differentiate between a man’s girlfriend and a girl that is a friend to the man?”

“Nazmahal 2, Sonnet of Lost Love You know who the biggest enemy of the lover is? It's the behaviorist. The behaviorist warns, but the lover wants to believe - the behaviorist restrains, but the lover wants to fall. So far, every time the behaviorist has had the final word - I told you so - yet the lover never learns the lesson. Still at the faintest possibility of love, lover jumps in, lock, stock and barrel. Love misplaced is not love wasted, Love misplaced is heart sweetened. Trust misplaced is not trust lost, Trust misplaced is humanity tested. Every good deed is a test of heart, Every act of love is existence tried. It's okay to be disappointed in deception, but never let it turn your ideals into a lie.”

“Vaishusmriti (The Sonnet) Those few afternoon trips back from uni, With her head on my shoulder, were utopia. My stomach was bursting with butterflies, But my lips could barely utter a word. My shirt got seeped with her intoxicating scent, But her heart was posted to another man's mail. Yet how can you begrudge someone you once loved! It's okay to lose your heart to the wrong people. Hadn't she rejected me, I'd have ended up yet another nobody in the sea of engineers. When life shatters you to a million pieces, Get up and give back life some middle finger. If you must love, love without any agenda, If they love you back, your heart grows softer, If they break you, your heart grows stronger, Either way, in act of love there is no failure.”

“Love is the bane (The Sonnet) Love is the boon, Love is the bane. Love is relief, Love is the pain. From love will come your troubles, From love will rise your answer. You'll fail in love, you'll fly in love, In love's insanity your sight will clear. Love is torture, Love is disaster. Love exposes the counterfeits, While it purifies the lover. In a world run by calculating coldness, be the anomaly of love insensible. Cure for this anemic world, is your love impossible.”

“i wonder where you are right now what are you doing? what are you thinking about? is it me and what we used to be? or is it someone else again? do i ever cross your mind? do you think about me now when i'm not there? did you think about me when i was? i wonder what we could have been would there have been evenings by the fireplace as you read to me? or the candle light dinners on our balcony because it was your last minute surprise? would there have been long walks in central park on valentine's day evening? or just any other night you wanted an excuse to hold my hand? would there have been movie nights after cancelling on that boring party we planned? would there still have been a me and you if i hadn't made you feel blue? did i burn the bridge we found home at? was i really such a brat? then i'm sorry, i always say but you didn't hear it as you walked away”

“Missing you, I missed a part of me I shared with you that’s now gone. Missing you, when really, it was the way you made me feel and the things you made us do. Missing you I shouldn’t be. But I can’t help missing who I was with you. Missing you, I missed and missed so much of the world and wasn’t even missed in return.”

“If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.”

“How is it that there was never you until there was and then all was you?”

“Is it odd, my love, that I envy others who have not met you for the intoxication they have yet to experience? Is it odd that I wish to witness you with new eyes so I may have the pleasure of falling for you all over again? I am grateful, so grateful, for knowing the meaning of your various sighs. For being the cause of your ecstatic cries. But, if only for a moment, I wish to let you fall out of my hands so that I may catch you again. You, my love, are the oddity. You are my exception.”

“I've written you sixty-seven love poems. Here’s another one for you. But really, for me. These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me. I place this candle here and another there so even if the stars have argued with the moon and are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me. Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us? Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect? I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of love if by lighting these candles our own flame loses its brightness? I know the good is more than the bad. Much more. I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.”

“I haven’t written you a poem in years it seems. How can it be my fault when the words to describe you have not yet been created? When the alphabet lacks the very letters? How can it be my fault when your loveliness only grows by the time I reach for pen and paper? Tell me how I am at fault when I am only a beginner in poems and you are exquisite poetry? To write you in words is to put a veil upon you. Why must I write when I can kiss you instead?”

“i want to love you with simple, like a bare singular matchstick. one stroke to ignite with no words spoken by the heated flames of the timber of crimsoned scarlet fire. as it crackles with close separation entangled with the intimacy of firefly ashes choosing to enchantingly dance around in abundant joy. hazily whistling into the glorified heavens making the ebony soot dissolve into the cool crisp air. yearning to be the explosion who burns through your bones as you visualize red ecstasy of a provoked kindle.”

“Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.”

“How strange is it that our beloved finds its way to us in everything? The orange moon, a freckle, the smell of coffee— are all bridges to the one we desire. How does our beloved find us in this way? Or are we the ones instead who find our beloved in everything? Our intense want of them necessitates the nearness of them. And so we seek beauty only to be flooded with the beauty of our beloved. And we write ellipses on the page only to be thrice reminded of the freckle below their lips...”

“Let us remember to always rediscover one another because we are forever changing.”

“All I need to do is place my pen against paper and your love writes for me.”

“Love, they said, burns you and builds you. But with you, there’s no ash. Just light.”

“What is this love that makes me see beauty, and makes every beautiful thing bring you back to me? What is this love that makes me declare 'I love you' even though I uttered it only a moment ago? What is this love that keeps growing even when my chest is sore and it hurts to love you any more? Tell me: How am I to find what this love is when it was the one to find you, me, this verse, and this universe?”

“Like a pair of old slippers, I feel comfort and warmth as I slip into you. No, that is too crude. Like the match to the wick, I ignite when we touch. My counterpart and life's purpose. Yes, as though I've known you my whole life. Every scar, every failure has become an affirmation of what should be: You. Yes, as though I've loved you my whole life.”

“Does God know the number of kisses before we fall in love? Yesterday, I was nobody and I believed myself important. Today, I feel my worth in you. You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair, even your heartbeat is beautiful. You, who is my greatest joy, all other concerns vanish in your presence. You swallow time and consume space, inspiring all my passion with a single embrace. I love your existence.”

“Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.”