Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.
Falling in love is like getting hit by a truck and yet not being mortally wounded. just sick to your stomach, high one minute, low the next. Starving hungry but unable to eat. hot, cold, forever horny, full of hope and enthusiasm, with momentary depressions that wipe you out.It is also not being able to remove the smile from your face, loving life with a mad passionate intensity, and feeling ten years younger.Love does not appear with any warning signs. You fall into it as if pushed from a high diving board. No time to think about what's happening. It's inevitable. An event you can't control. A crazy, heart-stopping, roller-coaster ride that just has to take its course.
People accuse me of falling in love easily. It just means that I'm able to see the beauty in most of the people who cross paths with me and I appreciate it for what it is and also for what it isn't. Love is imperfect. Falling for someone's flaws is just as necessary as falling for their strengths. And people like myself, who fall into love easily, are sometimes the loneliest souls around at the end of the day.
Watching my parents I've learnt a lesson many do not recognize. True love is not signaled by romantic, candle light dinners, red roses glistening with dew, or even Valentine's day celebrations. While these things may accompany our feelings, love is truly more than all those! Love is being with your spouse even when its not pleasing. Sometimes, love is walking down the hall, with your spouse hanging onto your shoulders and walking at a turtle's pace down the hall, just because surgery made life a burden. Love is patient, love is kind, love is Jesus! May we always remember love is not always tied in bows!
Love, they said, burns youand builds you.But with you, there’s no ash.Just light.
Sweetheart, darling, dearest, it was funny to think that these endearments, which used to sound exceedingly sentimental in movies and books, now held great importance, simple but true verbal affirmations of how they felt for each other. They were words only the heart could hear and understand, words that could impart entire pentameter sonnets in their few, short syllables.
While she could hardly fathom what had just happened to her that night, she reached some conclusions before she fell asleep, certain things now made perfect sense; Moon River didn’t sound so syrupy, mistletoe wasn’t such a bad idea, and perhaps dating was not such a frivolous waste of time after all.
And so, in silence, we walked the surface of a dying world, but in the breast of one of us at least had been born that which is ever oldest, yet ever new.I loved Dejah Thoris. The touch of my arm upon her naked shoulder had spoken to me in words I would not mistake, and I knew that I had loved her since the first moment my eyes had met hers that first time in the plaza of the dead city of Korad.
As much as I enjoy her laughter, I don’t like the sound of her doubting herself. And that’s something else I’m going to have to think about later on because the more I get to know Tori, the more I start to understand how she thinks and what makes her tick, the more I start to realize. . . This woman could be dangerous.
...a small part of me that worried that Tori wouldn’t be here when I arrived, that I pushed her too far, too fast, that somehow I read her wrong and asked her for more than she was willing to give. But she’s here. She’s magnificent. And she’s mine. That thought steals the air from my lungs. Her shoulders tense at my gasp, when she realizes she’s no longer alone. “Hello, beautiful,” my voice husky. I drop my bags by the door and swiftly cross the room. I only have a split second to take in how devastating she looks in her blue gown. I don’t know who moves first, but she’s in my arms as my lips descend on hers. With that first contact, the knot of tension that’s taken up residence between my shoulder blades releases, and I finally feel like I can breathe fully for the first time since I left for Los Angeles.
The only path wide enough for us all is love.
He looked at me thoughtfully, and smiled slowly, his green eyes warm. He smelled of the outdoors, he was so tall and broad shouldered and so ... male ... in this house of women he was shockingly different. All I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss him. I was clearly losing my mind.
There’s a reason for the word heartbeat not be called beat of heart. The perfect woman only needs a good beat. The heart will follow. Emotions, when put in equilibrium with reason, create more miracles than any emotion, no matter how strong, deprived from reason. This is why it’s much easier to love a woman that can play the drums or any other instrument with rhythm, than one that believes in unreasonable magic, simply because there’s more magic in reason than in the lack of it. You see, loving someone that you truly want to love, someone you admire, someone you want to spend your time with, helping, sharing and growing together, makes much more sense than expecting someone to love you for no reason than your will, needs and desires. And when humans understand this, they will understand love, find it easily and never lose it again.
When life seems like an uphill task do not ever give up on yourself or on life! Travel to a new place, learn a new language, embrace a new culture, play a musical instrument, read a good book, watch the sunrise, experience the sunset, go for a swim in the river, hug a tree, sit near the lake, or climb a mountain! You will fall in love with life all over again!
It’s like a domino effect. After all the time of neatly putting the pieces together, one wrong move, one moment of distraction, and all of it comes falling down. The same happens to us. While ignoring all those moments that happened, all the situations when we wanted to do something, make a move and let our impulses take over, we put them neatly one behind other and now it comes crashing down around us.
Love is not the primeval surge of libidinal lust that a person receives when meeting a suitable partner for the first time. Love in the truest sense of the term is born much later in a relationship, when both sides get to the know the truest selves of each other.
Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.
I fell in loveand then I became love.
In the beginning of our love lives, it is the beastly instinct of sexual attraction that drives us all. The butterflies in your stomach simply signal your mind that the person in front of you would make a fantastic mate to make babies with. Without this primeval drive, you won’t ever fall for anyone in your entire lifetime. The very attraction you feel towards a person in a romantic way, is a mental manifestation of a subconscious desire to mate with that person.
We were the only two people in the entire airport who lost total track of time, for we were consumed by space-time at that present moment. Time was irrelevant to our existence, for we didn’t want to exist outside the tight and glorious knots of each other’s arms. Time is basically an illusion created by the mind to aid in our sense of temporal presence in the vast ocean of space. Without the neurons to create a virtual perception of the past and the future based on all our experiences, there is no actual existence of the past and the future. All that there is, is the present.
You're screwed when you start to notice the details,It's when you begin to notice the curve of his lips when he smiles.It's when you can't help but stare at him and the way he talks.It's when you get to admire the shape of his eyes and even the length of his brow.And even crazier, when you get to see the flash of his face in your mind on a random day or it's when you have his favorite facial expression stuck in your memory. . . And worse when you start to have it all in your mind, then you start to miss him.
Don't constantly make angry your wife. Once she throws you out of her heart, there is no appeal
Men are handicapped in love, either in giving or in receiving. They consider love as a sign of weakness
A woman can only stay in love with a man for as long as she continues loving herself when she's with him. As soon as she starts to hate who she has become while in the relationship, she will move heaven and earth to end it. Does she get hurt? Definitely. It doesn't mean that she wants to leave her love for him has faded or diminished. However, just like the most basic rule of human existence, you cannot continue giving what you do not have.
I don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at you.To dodge your skin in the hallwayand leave the kitchen without bringing you a treat.It takes much too effort to stare at the sinkso my eyes don’t smile at you in the mirror.It takes much too effort to look away as we undressand lie apart in the now bigger bed.It takes much too effort to stiffen my bodybecause sleepy limbs forget fightsand pride is always lost in dreams.It takes much too effort to awaken every hour to make sure we are islands with a gulf of white sheets separating us.I dread the light peeking through the parted curtainsand empathise with your groans —I didn’t get any sleep either.I really don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at one anotherwhen it’s so easy for us to love.
Dear Dick, I'm not sure I still want to fuck you. At least, not in the same way. Sylvère keeps talking about us disturbing your "fragility", but I'm not sure that I agree. There's nothing so remarkable in one more woman adoring you. It's a "problem" you're confronting all the time. I'm just a particularly annoying one, one who refuses to behave... And yet I feel this tenderness towards you, after all we've been through.
Let us remember to always rediscover one anotherbecause we are forever changing.
Beauty is irrelevant to human life, especially in a relationship. What you today perceive as beautiful and special, over time, becomes not so special. That’s how the human brain works. It is not beauty that keeps a relationship alive, it is attachment. Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex toy.
Beauty is an illusion, created by Mother Nature to drive the human species in the path of reproduction. In reality, beauty is irrelevant to human life, especially in a relationship. What you today perceive as beautiful and special, over time, becomes not so special. That’s how the human brain works. It is not beauty that keeps a relationship alive, it is attachment. Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex toy.
It is not beauty that keeps a relationship alive, it is attachment. Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex toy.
How is it that there was never youuntil there wasand then all was you?
What is this lovethat makes me see beauty,and makes every beautiful thing bring you back to me?What is this lovethat makes me declare 'I love you'even though I uttered itonly a moment ago?What is this love that keeps growing even when my chest is soreand it hurts to love you any more?Tell me:How am I to find what this love iswhen it was the one to find you, me, this verse, and this universe?
I can sense your love,why leave me in darkness?Beguile me for your amusement,stealing my soul without kisses. You are the sun and I, the moon. Your beauty is reflected in my eyes.When we are apart, I am extinguishedin the blackness of these skies.
Does God knowthe number of kissesbefore we fall in love?Yesterday, I was nobodyand 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 timeand consume space,inspiring all my passionwith a single embrace.I love your existence.
Some of us cover to protect our bodiessome of us cover to protect our soulsin both cases,respect their choices.
There might have been prettier women in the room but, when she turned those babies on, fluttered her eyelashes, I was hers. It had taken me nearly fifteen years to extinguish their light. Now, when she looks at me, it's a vacuum. I had drained so much from her over the course of our marriage that every glance rips a little bit of my soul away to fill the void I had whittled within her.
What a space between men their spiritual natures create! A girl’s reverie isolates her from me, and how shall I enter it? What can one know of a girl that passes, slow steps homeward, out of thoughts, she can form an empire, locked up in her language, in the singing echoes of her memory. Born yesterday of the volcanoes, of greenswards, of brine of the sea, she walks here already half divine.
You see herand ascend into love. You become enchanted, a found madman. In your love,you lose yourself and become her. You were once without her, now with her. You still feel her and descend into love. You become enraptured, a lost madman. In your love,you lost yourself and her. You were once with her, nowwithout her.
The most crucial thing to know about true love is that, it is not something you can find, rather you need to build it with the person in whose eyes you see your soul.
That single moment's intensity hasn't been matched in my life before or since. A woman I didn't know had chosen to accept me, in body and mind. Perhaps it is this instant that forms the basis of traditional marriage—a complete stranger is suddenly mine. And then, I am hers, too; I must offer her my all. I want her to wield her power over me as an acknowledgment of my love. The rush of those feelings all at once is too much to describe. Language communicates in terms of what is already known; it chokes up when asked to deal with the entirely unprecedented.
All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.
With you, I am. Without you, I am not.
Whenever you keep score in love, you lose.
The only path wide for us all is love.
Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn’t you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.
Like a pair of old slippers,I feel comfort andwarmth as I slip into you.No, that is too crude.Like the match to the wick,I ignite when we touch.My counterpart andlife's purpose.Yes, as though I've known you my whole life.Every scar, every failurehas become an affirmationof what should be:You.Yes, as though I've loved you my whole life.
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 thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand 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 loveif by lighting these candlesour 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 came into marriage with love but when I got there she refused the dictatorship and fled away, I and my wife are looking for her. Anyone who finds her please contact us. We swear not to harm her again
It is described by some as a moment when the world stops moving...it did just that for me. I knew before she said one word or made a single movement, that our lives would begin to dissolve into each other...we would never part again. This was not love at first sight, but rather second. I had fallen in love at eleven; now I was twenty and now all things were possible.
They only want to be there while you’re on top, and when you haven’t gotten a gig in a while and you don’t know how you’re going to pay your rent at the end of the month and the glamor they thought they signed up for is gone, they’re walking out the door, leaving you to pick up the pieces.
Believe me when I say: 'Out of all those around, she’s the best locksmith in town.' Her stethoscope ears know when the dials of your heart click into place.She’s been cutting keys for years.You don’t stand a chance with that flimsy case.Alas, no matter how you lock your heart— bolt, fixture, and key— she’s got nimble fingersthat pick locks for free.Padlocks and deadboltsare all in vain.Why do you even botherwith that chain?She’s way too smart. Along with ours, she’ll have your heart. And you will see that the best locksmith in town is she.
I don't throttle and smother people in my life.. Not because I don't have my own fair share of doubts and sometimes, yes, insecurities.. But I have a great deal of confidence in my instincts that I've chosen the right one to trust.. When I trust, I do so with my whole heart..
I immersed myself in my relationship with my husband, in little ways at first. Dutch would come home from his morning workout and I’d bring him coffee as he stepped out of the shower. He’d slip into a crisp white shirt and dark slacks and run a little goop through his hair, and I’d eye him in the mirror with desire and a sultry smile that he couldn’t miss. He’d head to work and I’d put a love note in his bag—just a line about how proud I was of him. How beautiful he was. How happy I was as his wife.He’d come home and cook dinner and instead of camping out in front of the TV while he fussed in the kitchen, I’d keep him company at the kitchen table and we’d talk about our days, about our future, about whatever came to mind. After dinner, he’d clear the table and I’d do the dishes, making sure to compliment him on the meal. On those weekends when he’d head outside to mow the lawn, I’d bring him an ice-cold beer. And, in those times when Dutch was in the mood and maybe I wasn’t, well, I got in the mood and we had fun.As the weeks passed and I kept discovering little ways to open myself up to him, the most amazing thing happened. I found myself falling madly, deeply, passionately, head-over-heels in love with my husband. I’d loved him as much as I thought I could love anybody before I’d married him, but in treating him like my own personal Superman, I discovered how much of a superhero he actually was. How giving he was. How generous. How kind, caring, and considerate. How passionate. How loving. How genuinely good. And whatever wounds had never fully healed from my childhood finally, at long last, formed scar tissue. It was like being able to take a full breath of air for the first time in my life. It was transformative. And it likely would save our marriage, because, at some point, all that withholding would’ve turned a loving man bitter. On some level I think I’d known that and yet I’d needed my sister to point it out to me and help me change.Sometimes it’s good to have people in your life that know you better than you know yourself.
The beauty was nothing made sense. We were complex. We were intricate. We were designed with flaws which seemed to make everything perfect. But the defining word is seem. We don’t see what’s in front of us until it’s away from us. Until it’s behind us. Until it doesn’t bother us. Sometimes things aren’t perfect, yet they appear to be. Sometimes life doesn’t make sense until it does. But it always does.
Tell me where the swans go in the winterI need to know if the mute ones can sing.Tell me why stars fall from the skyI need to know if it is luck they bring.Tell me why feathers land near youI need to know if you've injured your wing.Now, tell me where you end, my angelFor I no longer know where I begin.
There was no unknown. He loved me and I loved him. There was no question, no doubt, no uncertainty, which perhaps caused us to lose ourselves indefinitely and enter a void so permanent. One where we stood with such confidence, which sounds lovely; but when you believe you have everything, you simply lose everything.
I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to float or fall a thousand feet and create the crevice I called my life. But the thing with crevices, there’s always a top and always a bottom. And the feeling of appreciation when you look from the top and understand how fast it can all come crashing down — it’s more than beautiful and more than words could ever explain.
You seem more...optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen you like this before.""Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in pictures, and experiencing it?
True love makes you sleep and dream. But loud reality wakes you up
God, you're so sweet.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I slowly unzip his hoodie and touch a hand to his bare chest. I relish in the feel of it. Barely an hour ago I was admiring it from afar, and now it's no longer just a tease. When I slide my hand down to his stomach, he groans and his hands slip just under my shirt. “So that's why you didn't want to change.” I can feel his smile against my lips. “You just wanted me to take your clothes off for you.”“Guilty.” I lift my arms for him to pull it off. Instead of returning to kissing me, his eyes roam down my body. I fight the urge to cover myself; even though my bra is still on, I feel exposed. His hands lightly touch each side along the seam. My breath catches in my throat.Meeting my eyes, he says, “You're so damn beautiful.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss in between my breasts. I shiver at the light touch of his lips to my sensitive skin. If this is how he makes me feel with such little contact, then how will the rest of this feel? The need is building inside like a spark starting a fire.
It is great joy to love and be loved.
I may be permitted, like the doctors, to cure a greater evil by a less, for I shall not fall seriously in love with the young widow, I think, nor she with me - that's certain - but if I find a little pleasure in her society I may surely be allowed to seek it; and if the star of her divinity be bright enough to dim the lustre of Eliza's, so much the better, but I scarcely can think it
Universe, tell me about the time when the world was kind, when words didn't shatter the souland leave people bleeding into the crease of their smile. tell me about the time when people wouldn't hide behind sarcasm or humor to mask themselves from dying slowly on the inside. Universe, tell me the names of all the stars in your sky, because I may have met one the other night.His presence in my thoughts, his touch in my heart and no longer a dream but laying next to me now. There are marks on my body from the energy of our light.He is broken, like me, a fallen star. Yet, aspires to soar and believes he can fly. I too believe in dreams.Universe, do you think you can do somethingabout all the lonely souls? the broken? the fallen stars?There are so many of us.And what about the hurt? the pain? the restlessness?Oris this all part of something bigger, a lesson to be learnt? so we can become a part of you?Universe, it’s me, Please hear my soul speak, my heart beat,I've learnt my lesson.Forgive me.Offer me redemption or bring me back to you.Universe, are you there?
The mark of a real man, is a man who can allow himself to fall deeply in love with a woman. But the reason why a man is often heartbroken, is because a woman can become overcome by the reality that she has made a man out of a boy, because it's just such an overwhelming process, a beautiful and powerful evolution. Therefore, a man needs to fall in love with a woman who knows that men don't happen every day, and when a man does happen, that's a gift! A gift not always given, and one that shouldn't be thrown away so easily.
It is difficult to love someone who loves you, but easy to hate someone who loves you, and love someone who hates you.
sometimes we are so lonely that we are more ready to fall in love with the concept of a person than the person in itself. Some people are thirsty for life, while others are hungry for love - and a girl who travels will know that there have been people who have fallen in love with her for the wrong reasons
It is lonely behind these boundaries. Some people-particularly those whom psychiatrists call schizoid-because of unpleasant, traumatizing experiences in childhood, perceive the world outside of themselves as unredeemably dangerous, hostile, confusing and unnurturing. Such people feel their boundaries to be protecting and comforting and find a sense of safety in their loneliness. But most of us feel our loneliness to be painful and yearn to escape from behind the walls of our individual identities to a condition in which we can be more unified with the world outside of ourselves. The experience of falling in love allows us this escapetemporarily. The essence of the phenomenon of falling in love is a sudden collapse of a section of an individual's ego boundaries, permitting one to merge his or her identity with that of another person. The sudden release of oneself from oneself, the explosive pouring out of oneself into the beloved, and the dramatic surcease of loneliness accompanying this collapse of ego boundaries is experienced by most of us as ecstatic. We and our beloved are one! Loneliness is no more! In some respects (but certainly not in all) the act of falling in love is an act of regression. The experience of merging with the loved one has in it echoes from the time when we were merged with our mothers in infancy. Along with the merging we also reexperience the sense of omnipotence which we had to give up in our journey out of childhood. All things seem possible! United with our beloved we feel we can conquer all obstacles. We believe that the strength of our love will cause the forces of opposition to bow down in submission and melt away into the darkness. All problems will be overcome. The future will be all light. The unreality of these feelings when we have fallen in love is essentially the same as the unreality of the two-year-old who feels itself to be king of the family and the world with power unlimited. Just as reality intrudes upon the two-year-old's fantasy of omnipotence so does reality intrude upon the fantastic unity of the couple who have fallen in love. Sooner or later, in response to the problems of daily living, individual will reasserts itself. He wants to have sex; she doesn't. She wants to go to the movies; he doesn't. He wants to put money in the bank; she wants a dishwasher. She wants to talk about her job; he wants to talk about his. She doesn't like his friends; he doesn't like hers. So both of them, in the privacy of their hearts, begin to come to the sickening realization that they are not one with the beloved, that the beloved has and will continue to have his or her own desires, tastes, prejudices and timing different from the other's. One by one, gradually or suddenly, the ego boundaries snap back into place; gradually or suddenly, they fall out of love. Once again they are two separate individuals. At this point they begin either to dissolve the ties of their relationship or to initiate the work of real loving.
One morning, about four o'clock, I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, 'Why am I out on the highway this time of night?' I was miserable, and it all came to me: 'I'm falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with. I can't fall in love with this man, but it's just like a ring of fire.
My best friend has warned me to stay away. Violet, a girl raised by the Terror, has warned me to stay away, but even after digesting her advice, knowing the rumors and experiencing what I have, I can't leave. The bandage on Razor's arm and the cuts and bruises along his side testify to how dangerous his life is, but with one long look into those beautiful eyes , I know that I'm a lost cause to logic. I've already fallen in love.
Night had fallen, and Diane admired the deep sky behind Steve's calm countenance. They looked into each other's eyes again and felt the spark and excitement of discovery. As if to celebrate the perfect, life-enabling distance of the earth from the sun, Diane and Steve kissed again.""-The Grand Unified Story (a Short Story) from Stories and Scripts: an Anthology
To begin by always thinking of love as an action rather than a feeling is one way in which anyone using the word in this manner automatically assumes accountability and responsibility. We are often taught we have no control over our "feelings." Yet most of us accept that we choose our actions, that intention and will inform what we do. We also accept that our actions have consequences. To think of actions shaping feelings is one way we rid ourselves of conventionally accepted assumptions such as that parents love their children, or that one simply "falls" in love without exercising will or choice, that there are such things as "crimes of passion," i.e. he killed her because he loved her so much. If we were constantly remembering that love is as love does, we would not use the word in a manner that devalues and degrades its meaning.
So, I guess that's what happens, when you fall in love with that perfect someone you just never want to fall out, because they treat you right, you know, like they give you kisses and they remind you of how beautiful you are, and how sweet you make them feel, and they do all kinds of things just to see you smile.
It’s scary. This love thing. The sweet vulnerability of extension. The naked of ‘here I am’. The tentative reaching of outstretched arms. The wide open of hope…Teach me how to be loved. Let me show you how to love me well. School me in the workings of your heart, in the language of your bones. Let my open palm memorize the shape of your face. Tell me the stories of your scars so I can trace them with the honor of understanding. I have been loved by those who didn’t care to discover all that I am. Will you be the one to see me whole?
To say that the frozen silence contracted itself into a yet higher globe of ice were to under-rate the exquisite tension and to shroud it in words. The atmosphere had become a physical sensation. As when, before a masterpiece, the acid throat contracts, and words are millstones, so when the supernaturally outlandish happens and a masterpiece is launched through the medium of human gesture, then all human volition is withered at the source and the heart of action stops beating. Such a moment was this. Irma, a stalagmite of crimson stone, knew, for all the riot of her veins that a page had turned over. At chapter forty? O no! At chapter one, for she had never lived before save in a pulseless preface. How long did they remain thus? How many times had the earth moved round the sun? How many times had the great blue whales of the northern waters risen to spurt their fountains at the sky? How many reed-bucks had fallen to the claws of how many leopards, while that sublime unit of two-figure statuary remained motionless? It is fruitless to ask. The clocks of the world stood still or should have done.
The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance - that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it - then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.
It’s a lot like a roller coaster. There are lots of twists and turns, and some of the hills are a bit scary, but you stay on the ride just to feel the thrill of that fall again,” Julia said. “And, when you find that person; no matter where you are in life; don’t you be afraid to take that ride,” she instructed the girls. “Hold on up the hills, and let go during the falls, just like you do on the roller coaster.
Love notes to my husband, Jeremiah Nii Mama Akita; I will always love you. I am grateful for a blessed life shared with you.
Jenny remembers what it was like, all those years ago. It was never dolls for her, nothing so tangible as that. It was more of a feeling. As if, for the first several years of her life, everything held over her a sort of knowledge and insistence. Fence posts, wallpaper, the lawn at certain hours of the day. These things glowered at her, or smiled. Even something as ordinary as the blue rolling chair in her father's office had some hold on her, some whisper of a new dimension in its puffs of dust sent upward by her fists against its cushions. There was an intensity inherent in everything until, one day, there wasn't. The blue chair rolled on its wheels to the window when she pushed it. The rising dust was rising dust. And when it was gone, there was only a knot of longing somewhere deep inside of her, a vacant ache: adolescence. Boredom.It's why we fall in love, Jenny will tell June.We fall in love to get back to that dimension, that wonder.She goes to the laundry room, where, from a pile of clean clothes, she picks out a few articles of June's, folds them, then goes upstairs to knock on her daughter's door and tell her that this, this lost doll world, is the reason there is love.
The greatest wonderful feeling is falling in love.
My whole body sank forward into his arms. His lips moved against mine, exploring my mouth so gently. I tried to mimic his movements--slowly, uncertainly, until I didn't have to think about it at all. It just felt right. He let out a soft moan at my reaction and cupped his hands behind my head, pulling me closer until I couldn't tell where my mouth ended and his began. A liquid sensation swooped throughout my stomach. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt and it kept growing, the vibrating heat expanding outward. I was surprised I was still able to stand.
We don't fall in love with people because they're good people. We fall in love with people whose darkness we recognise. You can fall in love with a person for all of the right reasons, but that kind of love can still fall apart. But when you fall in love with a person because your monsters have found a home in them-- that's the kind of love that owns your skin and bones. Love, I am convinced, is found in the darkness. It is the candle in the night.
My parents say you’re no good, Elijah.” I exhaled and killed the cigarette in the grass.Laughing, Eli’s eyes went to my lips and his hands touched my bare midriff. “Really? And what do you say?”He had brought his lips so close to mine that it became hard to think about my next words when all I wanted to do was crush my mouth to his. I wanted him to completely consume me. “I think you’re broken,” I finally got out, and Eli arched a brow. “But I think I’m broken too. I just don’t know it yet.
I remember the first time I fell in love. I held her hand in mine with not an interest to let go. I floated along lighter than I've ever felt. I kissed her hand as if she were my princess. There was a heart full of love and it was all for her. Every flower, every song, every cloud, every sunshine, every raindrop was a gift from heaven. For this angel had come to take my love. For the first time I felt love...
Right after Matt died, I was afraid to do basically everything. I couldn’t even bite my nails or sniff my shirt to see if I needed deodorant without feeling like he was watching me. I willed and prayed and begged him to give me a sign that he was watching, that he was with me, so I would know. But he never did. Time moved on. And I stopped being afraid. Until right now, vulnerable and insecure and a little bit drunk. Lying in the sand and falling in crazy love with someone I just met. Matt is watching me. Observing. Possibly judging. And the worst part of it is, I don’t want to wake up under his landslide of sad rocks anymore. I don’t want to taste the marzipan frosting and the clove cigarettes. I don’t want to think about the blue glass necklace or the books he read to me on his bed or the piles of college stuff or some random boy in the grocery store wearing his donated clothes. I don’t want to be the dead boy’s best-friend-turned-something-else. Or the really supportive neighbor friend. Or the lifelong keeper of broken-hearted secrets.
I know the truth now. You've figured out I'm falling in love with you and you're trying to make me stop by hurting me this way. Well it won't work.One way or another, I'm going to make you care about me. Yes, I am, unless your cold attitude kills me first.It's only fair, Connor. If I'm going to be miserable, by God, so are you.I am not a common wench and I will not be treated like one.
She watches Simon's profile as he drives, concentrating, but he keeps turning to her, and every time he does so, he is smiling. He doesn't seem to care, and she wonders if, actually, he wants to be caught. In some ways she does, because she knows, already, albeit crazily swiftly, that she wants more of this man, that once was never, ever going to be enough.
Imagine what it's like to be (untouchable)Better not take a chance on me (untouchable)I'm the bad boy your mama told you aboutI'm dangerous, without a doubtEven coming off a ten-year droughtUntouchableI'm the rose with hidden thorns (untouchable)Don't tell me that you haven't been warned (untouchable)I'm pretty poison under the skin, The bite of the apple that's a mortal sinIn a game of love you'll never winUntouchableMy reputation's fairly earned (untouchable)If you play with fire, you will get burned (untouchable)Stay out of the kitchen if you can't take the heat, My kisses are deadly as they are sweet, I'm a runaway bus on a dead-end streetUntouchableFools rush in, that's what they say(untouchable)But angels fall, too, most every day (untouchable)I'm the snake in the garden, the siren on the reefI have the face of a saint and the heart of a thiefI'll promise you love! And bring you nothing but griefUntouchable Hearing Jonah sing like this was like watching him slice himself open and show off his insides. Why would he do that? Why would be write such a song? And then Emma answered her own question. Because good music always tells the truth, no matter how much it hurts. Emma couldn't be the only one who felt the bite of the blade, but everyone else seemed to take it in stride. Did they know? Did they all know about Jonah? Of course they did. They were there when it happened. They'd allow Jonah to keep the secrets that were most important to him. She knew she shouldn't resent that, but she still did. They must have known she was falling for him. They must have.
I froze in place, bracing myself for the coming panic attack. Ben had said he was falling for me. That sounded serious, and whenever past relationships had approached “serious,” I had promptly freaked out. I sat in trepidation, waiting for the heart palpitations, the shallow breathing, the sweaty palms, and worst of all, the feeling of dread.But by some miracle, none of those things came. Instead, in that moment with Ben, I fell into a great calm. I felt comforted and warmed, like I was sitting by a campfire on a cold night. Ben’s words called to my heart, and instead of responding with terror, it opened up like a fist uncurling, as though it had been waiting twenty-six years just to hear his voice.
I’m in love with that girl,” she said out loud in amazement, because she knew that this was a life-changing thing and life-changing things should be said aloud, should have a moment in time, and a place in the air, some molecular structure to make them real. I’m in love with that girl, she heard as it reverberated inside her head. And it was truth, she realised, as things are which you don’t think, but discover have always existed.
In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains—flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds, crushing them to bits. The tornado’s intensity doesn’t abate for a second as it blasts across the ocean, laying waste to Angkor Wat, incinerating an Indian jungle, tigers and everything, transforming itself into a Persian desert sandstorm, burying an exotic fortress city under a sea of sand. In short, a love of truly monumental proportions. The person she fell in love with happened to be 17 years older than Sumire. And was married. And, I should add, was a woman. This is where it all began, and where it all ended. Almost.
It's as if I've stepped off the edge of a cliff, and even though my heart's in my mouth and my stomach is in knots, I'm the most excited I've ever been in my life. I'm totally enthralled by him. I want him, every part of him, and I desperately want him to feel the same way about me.
Love is simple. You fall and that's it. You'll work the other stuff out. You just gotta let yourself fall and have faith that someone will be there to catch you."I didn't want to do any falling. Falling usually led to meeting a hard surface in an unpleasant way.
How'd you know he was the one?""I didn't know. I don't think either of us knew."Heather rolled her eyes. "Neal knew — he proposed to you.""It's not like that," Georgie said. "You'll see. It's more like you meet someone, and you fall in love, and you hope that that person is the one — and then at some point, you have to put down your chips. You just have to make a commitment and hope that you're right.
His expression became serious, and his hand almost slipped from mine. "I've had a long time to think about it.""This can't work!"He looked down, then jerked his head up in frustration as his finger tightened on mine. "I'm not asking you to marry me, Rachel. I just ..."My heart pounded, and he stepped closer, so close the scent of cinnamon and wine enveloped me."I like walking into a room and seeing your face light up when you see me," he said earnestly, the sun from the open window making his hair glow. "I like arguing with Quen over the wisdom of employing a demon to be my security."My throat caught. This wasn't going to happen, but something in me was withering. I wanted more--and I knew I couldn't have it.He touched my hair, and I twitched as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to wake up beside you, see your curls on my pillow. I want a chance at falling in love.” My breath came fast. That was what I wanted too, and it hurt more than I thought was possible to survive.
The snag in this business of falling in love, aged relative, is that the parties of the first part so often get mixed up with the wrong parties of the second part, robbed of their cooler judgement by the party of the second part's glamour. Put it like this: the male sex is divided into rabbits and non-rabbits and the female sex into dashers and dormice, and the trouble is that the male rabbit has a way of getting attracted by the female dasher (who would be fine for the non-rabbit) and realizing too late that he ought to have been concentrating on some mild, gentle dormouse with whom he could settle down peacefully and nibble lettuce.
I will never be without information,' she determined. 'I will do better than my sisters. If a bird or any other beast comes out of that uncanny republic where husbands are grown, I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.' For this is how Marya Morevna surmised that love was shaped: an agreement, a treaty between two nations that one could either sign or not as they pleased.
If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise--if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham, and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other less interesting mode of attachment.
When he saw the lovers in the midst of the encircling crowd, Wells smiled once more, hoping that what he had thought moments before when he saw the smile appear on the girl's lips was true; that the love between Murray and Emma was permanent and unchanging; that in each universe, each reality, each and every world where their eyes met, they could not help but fall in love.
The thought crossed my mind that this could be dangerous. Not the ill-advised sex with the just-out-of-his-teens pop star, but the cuddling. The lying there, drinking in his scent, watching his chest rise and fall, allowing myself to bask in my own happiness. I could fall in love this way.
Daniel reaches out and grabs my hand to steady me. His skin is warm and soft, and holding his hand sends an electric sensation up my right arm. He holds my hand firmly until I regain my balance, which takes me a heartbeat longer than it should have.“Thanks for keeping me from falling,” I say. He smiles warmly. “Sometimes we just can’t stop ourselves from falling, cher.
Okay. You got a point," I said. "But it doesn't prove that I'm in love because I'm not.""Really?""Really. I'm not in love with anyone. I've never been.""You will be, someday.""Oh, you sound awfully sure of yourself.""I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure. There's nothing greater and stronger than the gravity of falling in love. That's my theory."I laughed nervously under my breath. "Whatever you say, Newton.
There is that awful moment when you realize that you’re falling in love. That should be the most joyful moment, and actually it’s not. It’s always a moment that’s full of fear because you know, as night follows day, the joy is going to rapidly be followed by some pain or other. All the angst of a relationship.
For all his determination to keep her at arm's length, they had literally leaned on each other. He could remember exactly what it felt like to have his arm around her waist as they had meandered towards Hazlitt's Hotel. She was tall enough to hold easily. He had never fancied very small
Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Falling is easy. Staying that way is hard. But I’ve been choosing hard all my life, so why the hell would the life I make with the woman who completes me be any different? I love you like a madman. You’re the air I breathe, my next heartbeat, and I’m never letting go.
And secondly. I am not falling for her. I broke my rules, but it doesn’t mean anything. My mission statement is still clear in my head. But, my chest… Moaning, I roll over on my back, rubbing the spot at the center of my sternum. I’m too young for a heart attack, right? It’s got to be heartburn. Or a pulled muscle. I did put a lot into that whipping. I probably strained something. It’s definitely not emotions. I am not feeling things for her. I. Am. Not.
It’s not as if he’s good-looking, because he’s not. Sometimes he’s so plain that he looks bland. But it’s his voice and his mannerisms that fill him with some kind of color. I listen to his voice and its resonance hooks me in. The worry lines on his forehead, his expression when he twists his face into a smile, and the way his whole face lights up when he laughs those short bursts of laughter.
And then I turn another corner, and my chest constricts so tightly, so painfully, that I can no longer breathe.Because there he is.He's engrossed in an oversize book, hunched over and completely absorbed. A breeze ruffles his dark hair, and he bites his nails. . . . Several other people are soaking up the rare sunshine, but as soon as they're registered, they're forgotten. Because of him.I grip the edge of a sidewalk café table to keep from falling. The diners stare in alarm, but I don't care. I'm reeling, and I gasp for air.How can I have been so stupid?How could I have ever for a moment believed I wasn't in love with him?
All love stories are frustration stories. As are all stories about parents and children, which are also love stories, in Freud's view, the formative love stories. To fall in love is to be reminded of a frustration that you didn't know you had (of one's formative frustrations, and of one's attempted self-cures for them); you wanted someone, you felt deprived of something, and then it seems to be there. And what is renewed in that experience is an intensity of frustration, and an intensity of satisfaction. It is as if, oddly, you were waiting for someone but you didn't know who they were until they arrived. Whether or not you were aware that there was something missing in your life, you will be when you meet the person you want. What psychoanalysis will add to this love story is that the person you fall in love with really is the man or woman of your dreams; that you have dreamed them up before you met them; not out of nothing - nothing comes of nothing - but out of prior experience, both real and wished for. You recognize them with such certainty because you already, in a certain sense, know them, and because you have quite literally been expecting them, you feel as though you have known them for ever, and yet, at the same time, they are quite foreign to you. They are familiar foreign bodies. But one things is very noticeable in this basic story; that however much you have been wanting and hoping and dreaming of meeting the person of your dreams, it is only when you meet them that you will start missing them. It seems the presence of an object is required to make its absence felt.
When he first met Kai, Sehun already knew that he was about to lose entire world. Although at the time, he thought that Kai would try to destroy his world. How can you hang on to something so incomprehensible? How can you keep pouring love into an abyss? An abyss. That was what Kai was. This town was not his home. This house was not his home. Kai was. Being in his arms, having him inflict a sort of beautiful pain was home. Sehun fell for Kai and he fell for Sehun just as hard.
In your honesty, I saw a reflection of myself. Or rather, of the man I longed to be. So I failed you. I didn’t stay away. Then, later, I thought if I had answers, it would be enough. I would no longer care. You would no longer matter. So I continued failing you. Continued wanting more. And now I can’t find the words to say what must be said. To convey to you the least of what I owe. When I think of you, I can’t find the air to b r e a t h e.
It's the opposite of the collapse of the fantasy.It's what happens when the illusion pales in comparison to the truth. I'm seeing her for the first time. Not Ava Garden Wilder, the rags-to-riches granddaughter of Clyde Jones. Not a tragic, romantic heroine. Just Ava.And I am utterly in love.
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. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.
Whatever you may say, genuine emotions are aroused by people. The first smile of a newborn, love confession, hang-loose chatting with friends, weekly meetings with dears, and a lot more other things initiated by two or several individuals trigger the feeling of happiness. There are more specific emotions native to females and males. Whereas the first ones are pleased at hearing sweet words. We live and work in the tradition of love and not hatred. As for us, it is the unconditional acceptance of all people, the scale of our love for them. Let's treat every person as a person in his uniqueness at eye level.Love is one of the strongest feelings one can ever have. It comes over you all of a sudden and totally absorbs before you manage to realize the fact. Emotions which arise with the feeling require some way of expression. Furtive glances, sweet words, touching, and romantic dates are a usual manifestation of affection. Still, there is a more inventive way to expose oneself – dedicating a special beautiful love quote to your beloved.
Love is like an undertow. You can fight it with every ounce of energy you have; it is far more powerful than you, and it inevitably sweeps you under. Once love takes hold, it remains. Love is what remains when life finds its ending. It is the bridge that connects where we have been, where we now reside, and where we ultimately need to travel.
Worried about fitting in, being part of a group, feeling accepted? People gather in groups of similar interests, but these interests are usually based on external preferences and attires.“We think that if other people like this sport or activity, they’ll accept us without an interview or further questions, and we need that because we are afraid of standing naked in front of others, of showing whom we really are underneath the fake smiles and bland expressions of anger and pain: this nakedness is one of the heart and mind.“It’s within these groups that most people find their ‘soul-mates’ and ‘fall in love’ with the person they’ll never get to know for real.“Little did you know, you have to keep pretending to be someone else, while your partner is exhausted from having to put on a daily show just to please you.
Right now in this space, I feel a brand new pull to him. I’ve always been drawn to his features, his brilliance, his laughter, his passion. But right now I’m attracted to his pain. It makes him human. It makes him real. It makes him something he hardly ever is to me: accessible.
I once asked Randy how he knew that he had fallen in love with his girlfriend, Amy, and he just looked at me like it was the hardest question in the world. I expected some floral, florid explanation, about the air lightening and flute music filling his ears. This relationship that had him so transfixed—I expected a masterpiece of sentiment, one that would make me so happy for him and so empty inside. Instead he just turned to me and said,“The minute I knew I was in love was the minute when there was no question about it. One night I was lying in the dark, looking at her looking at me, and it just was there, undeniable.”There is no question about it.
It's like all my life I've been this tower standing at the edge of the ocean for some obscure purpose, and only now, almost eighteen years in, has someone thought to flip the switch that reveals that I'm not a tower at all. I'm a lighthouse. It's like waking up. I am incandescent.
Falling in love is not an act of will. It is not a conscious choice. No matter how open to or eager for it we may be, the experience may still elude us. Contrarily, the experience may capture us at times when we are definitely not seeking it, when it is inconvenient and undesirable. We are as likely to fall in love with someone with whom we are obviously ill matched as with someone more suitable. Indeed, we may not even like or admire the object of our passion, yet, try as we might, we may not be able to fall in love with a person whom we deeply respect and with whom a deep relationship would be in all ways desirable. This is not to say that the experience of falling in love is immune to discipline. Psychiatrists, for instance, frequently fall in love with their patients, just as their patients fall in love with them, yet out of duty to the patient and their role they are usually able to abort the collapse of their ego boundaries and give up the patient as a romantic object. The struggle and suffering of the discipline involved may be enormous. But discipline and will can only control the experience; they cannot create it. We can choose how to respond to the experience of falling in love, but we cannot choose the experience itself.
Of all the misconceptions about love the most powerful and pervasive is the belief that "falling in love" is love or at least one of the manifestations of love. It is a potent misconception, because falling in love is subjectively experienced in a very powerful fashion as an experience of love. When a person falls in love what he or she certainly feels is "I love him" or "I love her." But two problems are immediately apparent. The first is that the experience of falling in love is specifically a sex-linked erotic experience. We do not fall in love with our children even though we may love them very deeply. We do not fall in love with our friends of the same sex-unless we are homosexually oriented-even though we may care for them greatly. We fall in love only when we are consciously or unconsciously sexually motivated. The second problem is that the experience of falling in love is invariably temporary. No matter whom we fall in love with, we sooner or later fall out of love if the relationship continues long enough. This is not to say that we invariably cease loving the person with whom we fell in love. But it is to say that the feeling of ecstatic lovingness that characterizes the experience of falling in love always passes. The honeymoon always ends. The bloom of romance always fades.
I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them that no one else gets to see. I don't know, like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and you saw them crying in their bed at night or singing to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street and even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think after seeing them at their most vulnerable you wouldn't be able to help falling in love with them.
If falling in love is not love, then what is it other than a temporary and partial collapse of ego boundaries? I do not know. But the sexual specificity of the phenomenon leads me to suspect that it is a genetically determined instinctual component of mating behavior. In other words, the temporary collapse of ego boundaries that constitutes falling in love is a stereotypic response of human beings to a configuration of internal sexual drives and external sexual stimuli, which serves to increase the probability of sexual pairing and bonding so as to enhance the survival of the species. Or to put it in another, rather crass way, falling in love is a trick that our genes pull on our otherwise perceptive mind to hoodwink or trap us into marriage. Frequently the trick goes awry one way or another, as when the sexual drives and stimuli are homosexual or when other forces-parental interference, mental illness, conflicting responsibilities or mature self-disciplinesupervene to prevent the bonding. On the other hand, without this trick, this illusory and inevitably temporary (it would not be practical were it not temporary) regression to infantile merging and omnipotence, many of us who are happily or unhappily married today would have retreated in whole- hearted terror from the realism of the marriage vows.
See that's where you're wrong baby. When you find your man, it's almost too easy. Gettin' married and havin' a mortgage, kids and a business to run and findin' a way to stay in love day in day out, that's the tougher part. But the beginning'… that parts easy as pie. That's why they call it fallin' because it happens before you have time to stop yourself.
Wen grinned and I felt a warm glow and an odd dizzy sensation. And then I remembered something my dad once wrote me about falling in love. He said the phrase was apt because falling is exactly what it can feel like, as if you've finally allowed yourself to let go of some safety bar you didn't even know you were clinging to, and suddenly you find yourself tumbling towards the exciting unknown.
Steve's throat swelled with tension as the intimacy of the moment became more tangible. He moved his eyes from the dark, reflective river, to the dark, reflective pupils in Diane's eyes. They seemed to quiver with tenderness - but then they would grow distant. He found himself continually surprised at the "aliveness" of the person standing just a foot away from him now. She wasn't inanimate: she would flinch if he pinched her, and answer if he asked her. And she was beautiful." -- From "The Grand Unified Story" -- a short story in Zack Love's Stories and Scripts: an Anthology
See that's where you're wrong baby. When you find your man, it's almost too easy. Gettin' married and haven' a mortgage, kids and a business to run and findin' a way to stay in love day in day out, that's the tougher part. But the beginning'… that parts easy as pie. That's why they call it fallen' because it happens before you have time to stop yourself.
He laughs again. “You’re different, Caymen.”“Different than what?”“Than any other girl I’ve met.”Considering most of the girls he’d met probably had fifty times as much money as I did, that wasn’t a hard feat to accomplish. Thinking about that makes my eyes sting.“It’s refreshing. You make me feel normal.”“Huh. I better work on that because you’re far from normal.”He smiles and pushes my shoulder playfully. My heart slams into my ribs. “Caymen.”I take another handful of dirt and smash it against his neck then try to make a quick escape. He grabs me from behind, and I see his hand, full of dirt, coming toward my face when the warning beeps of the tractor start up.“Saved by the gravediggers,” he says.
I don't know what falling in love for me is. The concept of romantic love arose in the Middle Ages. Now remember, the Arabs don't even have a word for love—that is, a word for love apart from physical attraction or sex. And this separation of love and sex is a western concept, a Christian concept. As to what falling in love means, I'm uncertain. Love, well, it means simply physical attraction and liking a person at the same time.
When she spoke, Tom held his breath, so eagerly he listened; when she sang, he sat like one entranced. She touched his organ, and from that bright epoch even it, the old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had thought of elevation, began a new and deified existence.
Elliot and I were more 'adult' about it all. We'd kiss hello and goodbye and we'd kiss as part of foreplay, but we wouldn't kiss just for the sake of it. not when we got together properly.I would love to snog Jack Britcham. I would love to inhale the smell of him, feast in the scent of him, become intoxicated by him. And of course there is nothing wrong with looking at him. I would love to run my fingers over the lines of his body, touch him and see if I could absorb him through the pads of my fingers, have him enter my bloodstream and race through my veins. I would love to taste him. See if he tastes as good as he looks.I don't know why he's got so far under my skin, but he has. And that's not a bad thing, I didn't think. It gives me something to look forward to, I suppose.Loved-up saddo
It was the most natural thing in the world because from out of his mouth were coming most of the things I felt. In another person, one i did not have this attachment to, it would have been gushing, clingy and embarrassing, from him it was like having a mirror held up to my soul.
I always smile when I think of him, and when I see his doppelgängers I rubberneck to get a look. Then allow myself to dissolve into a serene, secret little smile as that feeling takes over. Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've only met for five minutes?
She felt the essence of herself pulled finer and smaller like those streams of spun glass that pull and stretch till there remains but a glimmering illusion. Neither falling nor breaking, the stream spins finer. She felt herself very small and ecstatic. Alabama was in love.
When your stomach turns somersaults every time you see your love interest, when you can go without eating for half a day because you can't think of anything else, and when the sound of her voice blocks out every possible distraction each time you hear it...then logic's role becomes a very minor one.
I think the tingles are important. They are real, and I am in favor of their survival. But they are not the basis for a satisfactory marriage. I am not suggesting that on should marry without the tingles. Those warm, excited feelings, the chill bumps, that sense of acceptance, the excitement of the touch that make up the tingles serve as the cherry on top of the sundae. But you cannot have a sundae with only the cherry.
You came to my lifewith what you were bringing,madeof light and bread and shadow I expected you,and Like this I need you,Like this I love you,and to those who want to hear tomorrowthat which I will not tell them, let them read it here,and let them back off today because it is earlyfor these arguments.
It’s hard to say how it happens. How all of the bits of me – even the broken ones – start to tumble. I think it’s my toes that go first. Next – my legs and the hallow spaces behind my ribs. And then my arms all the way down through my wrist bones to the tips of my fingers. My lips part and I realize that this is what it feels like to fall.
I never thought Greek philosophy could make a damn bit of sense to me. And most of it didn't, but those words just seemed right. 'Love is composed of a single soul, inhabiting two bodies.'" He took her by the shoulders drawing her close. "It rang true for me, in a way nothing else did. Whatever soul I had, Katie, I think I placed it in your keeping twenty years ago. And now, it's as if...every time we kiss, you give a little piece of it back.
It’s like my entire conscious state has been reduced to this toxic blend of hope and uncertainty. I hate that I have to act cool and almost pretend I don’t like him when in fact I do, because, God forbid, I might come across as desperate for affection or a little clingy, which everyone should know are perfectly natural human behaviors, after all. Ugh!
It was the strangest sensation, fallin' in love. 'Bout the only thing I compare it to would be jumpin' off a big cliff. Once you're past the edge, there ain't no particular reason to be graspin' for a line a safety. You just keep on fallin' anyhow, so you might as well enjoy it the whole way down.
Her stomach lurches. She fancies him sooo much - she is powerless to resist. How can she possibly? She knows it's wrong: he has a girlfriend - he lives with her, for goodness' sake - and what they're doing is unfair, cruel. She is not sure what he's said to his girlfriend to wangle a night away and she doesn't want to know. She would hate it if it was done to her - she has never seen herself as the kind of girl who would steal another woman's man. She and Anna have always been most disapproving about women who do that, arguing through college and beyond that there are plenty of available men out there, that it is quite unnecessary to go for those already spoken for. But she has liked Simon since day one, and he is the one who initiated this whole thing. He is the one who blew her away with a clandestine kiss just a week ago, who asked if he could come back and stay at hers afterwards; he is the one who doubtless made unconvincing excuses when he returned home the next day. And it only took that single night to open this Pandora's box of mutual passion, being together was far, far better than it should have been, were it only a one-night stand. Karen senses that he really likes her.
I didn't know his age or how he liked his tea, I was wearing a terrible coat and I was drunk as a stoat - but this moment felt like it. The one I'd been waiting patiently for since I was a little girl. I'd worked so hard, for so long, at being ok with being single, but all of the things I'd told myself about independence were disappearing rapidly into the cold night. Right now, he felt like the only person who mattered in the whole world.
He decides he wants both more or less. He’d like to hang with Beyonce in a nice way, get to know her by doing small pleasant things together like playing board games and going out for ice cream, or how about this, a three-week trial run in some tropical paradise where they can hang together in that nice way and possibly fall in love, and meanwhile fuck each other’s brains out in their spare time. He wants both, he wants the entire body-soul connect because anything less is just demeaning.
I was at Gatwick and I was a mess: breathlessly excited, horribly nervous and hoping, praying, that this might be it. That the man who was belted up preparing for touchdown would be the man I would spend the next sixty years picking up from airports, missing him, loving him, feeding him and, all things going well, having a fair bit of sex with him.
He looked up and I realised how close we were, both of us leaning in together. I blinked a few times, suddenly light-headed, but not like before when I'd passed out. Being so close to the smooth dark skin of his face, getting lost in the shifting shades of his green eyes, it felt like my insides were fluttering and melting.
Listen! This is where it began but I keep getting muddled... The fact of the matter is that I now want to recall everything, every trifle, every little detail. I still want to collect my thoughts and - I can't, and now there are these little details, these little details...
When you reached the point of losing your reasoning, that's called falling in love. Actually, those who have lost their reasoning chase blindly without thinking about the risks. They run and run like confused wild pigs. That's why, most of the time, they end up getting hurt. -- Sagan
The street signs”, she replied simply. I simply felt stupid. “When you learn how to read, you can read Stop, Go, and the colors matter too!”“Yeah?”, (sigh).“Yup! That leaf is green, it means Go. The yellow like the bus means careful. The red is Stop. Oh and there’s crossing guards. And if you fall anyway you don’t have to worry.”“Really? Why not?”“Because you can always get up. And see?” she showed me her scar once more, “It hurts at first, but then it heals.
The first time I met you, I fell in love with you there and then, but you didn't notice me. Then you stood me up. And then I met you again and I hated you. Well, I tried to hated you, but then when you cleaned up after Welly... I fell in love with you all over again.
So what are you doing around here?" I ask, feeling all jittery, but this time it's in a good way."Oh, I was just in the area." he says vaguely. "I thought I'd take Welly for a walk..." He trails off and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Those butterflies are going crazy in there.
When the time is right, you might right, you might consider telling Theo that you’ve been in love with him for a long time now.” Lucy sniffed. “And I’m supposed to do this without Milk Duds? As if!” Doris laughed. “You know, being true to yourself takes courage, Lucy. Great joy always requires great risk, and even effort.” “Yeah. OK. But I’ve always been more of a drive-through person.
it’s a terrible feeling when you first fall in love. your mind gets completely taken over, you can’t function properly anymore. the world turns into a dream place, nothing seems real. you forget your keys, no one seems to be talking English and even if they are you don’t care as you can’t hear what they’re saying anyway, and it doesn’t matter since your not really there. things you cared about before don’t seem to matter anymore and things you didn’t think you cared about suddenly do. I must become a brilliant cook, I don’t want to waste time seeing my friends when I could be with him, I feel no sympathy for all those people in India killed by an earthquake last night; what is the matter with me? It’s a kind of hell, but you feel like your in heaven.even your body goes out of control, you can’t eat, you don’t sleep properly, your legs turn to jelly as your not sure where the floor is anymore. you have butterflies permanently, not only in your tummy but all over your body - your hands, your shoulders, your chest, your eyes everything’s just a jangling mess of nerve endings tingling with fire. it makes you feel so alive. and yet its like being suffocated, you don’t seem to be able to see or hear anything real anymore, its like people are speaking to you through treacle, and so you stay in your cosy place with him, the place that only you two understand. occasionally your forced to come up for air by your biggest enemy, Real Life, so you do the minimum then head back down under your love blanket for more, knowing it’s uncomfortable but compulsory.and then, once you think you’ve got him, the panic sets in. what if he goes off me? what if I blow it, say the wrong thing? what if he meets someone better than me? Prettier, thinner, funnier, more like him? who doesn’t bite there nails? perhaps he doesn’t feel the same, maybe this is all in my head and this is just a quick fling for him. why did I tell him that stupid story about not owning up that I knew who spilt the ink on the teachers bag and so everyone was punished for it? does he think I'm a liar? what if I'm not very good at that blow job thing and he’s just being patient with me? he says he loves me; yes, well, we can all say words, can’t we? perhaps he’s just being polite.of course you do your best to keep all this to yourself, you don’t want him to think you're a neurotic nutcase, but now when he’s away doing Real Life it’s agony, your mind won’t leave you alone, it tortures you and examines your every moment spent together, pointing out how stupid you’ve been to allow yourself to get this carried away, how insane you are to imagine someone would feel like that about you. dad did his best to reassure me, but nothing he said made a difference - it was like I wanted to see Simon, but didn’t want him to see me.