Then Love Knew it Was Called Love
“Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way”
– Pablo Neruda
“Patience and wisdom walk hand in hand, like two one-armed lovers.”
– Jarod Kintz
“Then I discovered that being related is no guarantee of love!”
– Stieg Larsson
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
– Ingrid Bergman
“This is what happened in love. One of you cried a lot and then both of you grew sarcastic.”
– Lorrie Moore
“It does good to no woman to be flattered [by a man] who does not intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and, if discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatuus-like, into miry wilds whence there is no extrication.”
– Charlotte Brontë
“And all I loved, I loved alone.”
– Edgar Allan Poe
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning
“She wasnt exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. All she knew for sure was that right here and now, she was falling hard and she could only pray that he was feeling the same way.”
– Nicholas Sparks
“Don’t go far off, not even for a day,
because I don’t know how to say it – a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in
an empty station when the trains are
parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
on the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
into the empty distance. Don’t LEAVE me for
a second, my dearest, because in that moment you’ll
have gone so far I’ll wander mazily
over all the earth, asking, will you
come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”
– Pablo Neruda