Love Lost Quotes

“I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried. For a year I have called every black tree Marya Morevna; I have looked for your face in the patterns of the ice. In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

“My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

“There's so much I should say, so many things I should tell him, but in the end I tell him nothing.

I cut a line and my losses, and I light a cigarette.”
― Clint Catalyst, Cottonmouth Kisses

“...my father, [was] a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee. At worst? He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard to breathe, my father stalking around with his lower jaw jutting out, giving him the look of a wounded, vengeful boxer, grinding his teeth so loud you could hear it across the room ... I'm sure he told himself: 'I never hit her'. I'm sure because of this technicality he never saw himself as an abuser. But he turned our family life into an endless road trip with bad directions and a rage-clenched driver, a vacation that never got a chance to be fun.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

“Love … It’s a nice little trick if you can find it.

We had found it.

But now I knew finding love and holding on to it were not the same thing.”
― Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness

“But as the years passed, he missed her more, not less, and his need for her became a cut that would not scar over, would not stop leaking.”
― Dennis Lehane, Shutter Island

“Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
The susurration of the sighing sea
Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls
That tremble in a passion of farewell.

To the desires that trebled life in me,
(O melancholy of the wind that rolls!)
The dreams that seemed the future to foretell,
The hopes that mounted herward like the sea,
To all the sweet things sent on happy souls,
I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.

And to the girl who was so much to me
(O lamentation of this wind that rolls!)
Since I may not the life of her compel,
Out of the night, beside the sounding sea,
Full of the love that might have blent our souls,
A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell.”
― W.E. Henley, A Selection of Poems

“Tell me that you refuse to allow me to be so stupid. Tell me that you will not tolerate this relationship being over just when it was on the verge of really taking off.”
― Freya North, Fen

“I wonder
if you ever read my poems
and wish
they were written
for you.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“love needs too much help, he said.
hate takes care of itself.”
― Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit

“I have, he went on, betrayed myself with
belief, deluded myself with love
tricked myself with sex.

the bottle is damned faithful, he said,
the bottle will not lie”
― Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit

“And perhaps some will never understand,
It is mostly the farewells that unite us, and last in our memory forever,
Even more than the first meeting.”
― Mimi Novic, Guidebook To Your Heart

“Did she make you laugh? Did she love you as much as you loved her? Did she protect you and warm you and keep you from suffering? Valentine turned her eyes away from him, unable to face the empty answer in his face but not wanting to stop saying what she had thought for so long. "I saw how fascinating her mystery was to you. For my part, I think that the mystery is always greatest where there is the most-emptiness. A person full of life is never mysterious, on the contrary.”
― Judith Krantz, Scruples

“I got nervous at bulls and eagles,
Trying to figure what shape Zeus might take for sex
When it could be your turn next. But now I don't care any longer,
I've come to my senses, your profile leaves me cold.
Why am I different? you ask. I'll tell you. Because you keep nagging
For presents. That's what turns me off.”
― Ovid, The Erotic Poems

“When she had died, his anchor was gone and the world had burned from his untethered insanity.”
― Cedric Nye, Jango's Anthem

“She thought of Henry and Diana on the stoop gazing at each other with the confusion and sadness of two puppies who have just stumbled into their first puddle and not yet come to understand what has happened to them and found that she wanted to lie extravagantly.”
― Anna Godbersen, Envy

“All love is bittersweet. Love is inexplicable; it is part poetry and part masochism. Part of love is the loss of self-control because one must openly surrender their sense of an exclusive self to the manic powers of love. The personal act of surrender to a lover leaves one vulnerable to entanglement in a maze of emotions. When we fall in love, our lover’s happiness and well-being assumes the primary role in our mind, they become copilots of our souls. When we are in love for the first time, we feel what it means to become a complete person; we identify who we are by seeing our reflection in our lover’s eye; and we sense what we might become when infused with love. When our lover leaves us, we feel vexed and vacant because we recognize that they took up such a large part of what made us feel intoxicated with life. When our lover abandons us, we lose our sense of self; we temporarily cease to exist as a whole person, and we must reconstruct the shattered remnants of oneself in the wake of a love lost.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“Sometimes your very existence seems nothing, sometimes its your shadow I yearn for or a glimpse of it.”
― ehddah

“[T]his jealousy gave him, if anything, an agreeable chill, as, to the sad Parisian who is leaving Venice behind him to return to France, a last mosquito proves that Italy and summer are still not too remote. But, as a rule, with this particular period of his life from which he was emerging, when he made an effort, if not to remain in it, at least to obtain a clear view of it while he still could, he discovered that already it was too late; he would have liked to glimpse, as though it were a landscape that was about to disappear, that love from which he had departed; but it was so difficult to enter into a state of duality and to present to oneself the lifelike spectacle of a feeling one has ceased to possess, that very soon, the clouds gathering in his brain, he could see nothing at all, abandoned the attempt, took the glasses from his nose and wiped them; and he told himself that he would do better to rest for a little, that there would be time enough later on, and settled back into his corner with the incuriosity, the torpor of the drowsy sleeper in the railway-carriage that is drawing him, he feels, faster and faster out of the country in which he has lived for so long and which he had vowed not to allow to slip away from him without looking out to bid it a last farewell.”
― Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way

“Somehow everything always came down to time, she realized with perfect lucidity. There was either too much or too little. It either passed too quickly or too slowly. It didn’t belong to anyone—it was simply a gift, bestowed by God, and yet eternally taken for granted. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Time could be tamed—reigned in—and tethered, synchronized with human needs and wants. But that wasn’t the case, was it?”
― R. W. Patterson, Dark Night of the Soul: A sacrifice to end a life; A rescue to save a soul.

“Time can change relationships like the sea reshapes the wind”
― Alice Feeney, Rock Paper Scissors

“Let roots grow where love was lost. Honor the life that they had, even though it was short.”
― Laura C. Reden, Dark Reflections

“I threw myself upon the ground, and wept: I then sprang up, and ran out upon the terrace, and saw, under the shade of the linden-trees, her white dress disappearing near the garden-gate. I stretched out my arms, and she vanished.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther

“War veterans of a lost war and those who have loved and lost have something in common: both are heart-broken. But the physical wounds of the former are visible, the emotional scars of the latter and the inner pain they carry within is not always apparent”
― Bakht Ashraf

“I do have a single tale. It is a story of love found and love lost – of ambition and madness – of paradise and torment.”
― Brock Meier, The Stone Cutter: A novel of Petra In Ancient Arabia

“Love can be lost, and I am done with losing.”
― Holly Black, The Prisoner’s Throne

“We all bear scars. Some not visible.”
― Byrd Nash, Spirit Guide

“Sa salamin, ang iyong mukha'y
ang iyong mukha.
Pag dumating ang araw na magkaiba na sila,
iyon ang araw na nalimot na kita”
― Abner E. Dormiendo, Sa Antipolo Pa Rin Ang Antipolo

“["]Bon just couldn't do anything right in her mother's eyes. And when it came to Mrs. D. wanting her to work at the bank, they had a couple of real screamers."

"No love lost."

Keisha considers this. "You could say that, sure, but there was plenty of love left. Do you get that?"

Holly thinks of the dog-eared poetry notebooks in the drawer of her mother's night table and says she does.”
― Stephen King, Holly

“He was supposed to be in love with her, for chrissakes. Yet the truth of it was, this news of her recent string of successes was paining him. He was jealous. He didn't know what he was jealous of, precisely, but the bitter fact remained: whatever was making Nora glow like this, it had nothing to do with him.”
― Glenn Savan, White Palace