This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.

From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone.

Don't cry over someone who wouldn't cry over you.

To be rejected by someone doesn't mean you should also reject yourself or that you should think of yourself as a lesser person. It doesn't mean that nobody will ever love you anymore. Remember that only ONE person has rejected you at the moment, and it only hurt so much because to you, that person's opinion symbolized the opinion of the whole world, of God.

You can obsess and obsess over how things ended—what you did wrong or could have done differently—but there's not much of a point. It's not like it'll change anything. So really, why worry?

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

Yes, I understand why things had to happen this way. I understand his reason for causing me pain. But mere understanding does not chase away the hurt. It does not call upon the sun when dark clouds have loomed over me. Let the rain come then if it must come! And let it wash away the dust that hurt my eyes!

When you leave,weary of me,without a word I shall gently let you go.

Love entered in my heart one dayA sad, unwelcome guest.But when it begged that it might stayI let it stay and restIt broke my nights with sorrowingIt filled my heart with fearsAnd, when my soul was prone to sing,It filled my eyes with tears.But...now that it has gone its way,I miss the dear ole pain.And, sometimes, in the night I prayThat Love might come again.

I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn't feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I couldn't escape you and I didn't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you.

It is our wounds that create in us a desire to reach for miracles. The fulfillment of such miracles depends on whether we let our wounds pull us down or lift us up towards our dreams.

Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have no broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong.

Far too many people opened their hearts and lives at the drop of a hat. Why give someone that power over you? Why endow them with the ability to hurt you that much? Let someone in and you were asking for an emotional kicking some day.

A broken heart is just the growing pains necessary so that you can love more completely when the real thing comes along.

Though sorrow may impede my heart,It is of great love to have known you.

I know I'm not going to be in your head all the time. But once you know me, I'll be forever in your heart.

I was suffering the easily foreseeable consequences. Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never dared to admit you wanted-an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement. Soon you start craving that intense attention, with a hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is witheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy, and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore-- despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free). Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in a corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob your neighbors just to have 'that thing' even one more time. Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you're someone he's never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is,you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess,unrecognizable even to your own eyes. So that's it. You have now reached infatuation's final destination-- the complete and merciless devaluation of self." - pg 20-21

Heartache often drives us to consume things we wouldn't otherwise, such as an entire pint of Caramel Pecan Perfection high-fat ice cream, covered in ganache, the crack cocaine of frozed dairy. Twelve hundred calories per pint, six hundred and eighty of which are fat calories, but is only dulls the pain for the moment, there's that carb fog while you're standing at the sink shoving it in your face, and then it's over and you feel...used. Like a cheap pickup the Dove people seduced and abandoned in your kitchen, leaving you with sticky hands and an empty cup and a still-broken heart, except now you're mad at Dove, too.

Sometimes... Reason and Love are met with a violent ignorance that even what's right gets lost. Our heart bleeds, but when does the blood shed end and the healing begin?

Trust undone will lead to heartache and pain. So I ask you to be honest and truthful in your love for me.

We live in a world that is beyond our control, and life is in a constant flux of change. So we have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain.

Because I don't think God trusts just anybody with so much heartache. The world has not yet seen what God can do with a man who gives both halves of a broken heart to him. And I don't doubt that a man like that can change the world...or at least a little part of it.

For years I've been searching for a homeland, finally I found it in you..

Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone has said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shift of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it.

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o’clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they’ll swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black. They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms.

And me, standing under the splintered night, catching fractured glimpses into the black behind the black, hearing the prayers of stars, the angry whispers of the dark summer night.Its voice cracks,on your name.My eyes close,on your name.

We ruined each other by being together. We destroyed each other’s dreams.

Lips that have tasted the salt of tears always give the sweetest kiss.

He’d pushed it back, where he’d kept the thought for weeks, but it wouldn’t stay. Wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t let him go.

Better this way, what remained of his battered sensibilities told him. He was no good for her, anyway. She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand that he was cursed. And, selfish as he was, he’d rather she hate him than he hate himself any more than he was already going to. Any more than he already did.

Caine might have smiled at her, had his heart not been breaking to smithereens inside of him.

By now, she was far from the scorch of these sands. After the ransom deal, she would be safely married in England. To Ashton. And Caine, who had hurt her far more than anything Abdullah had planned for her with that long, curved dagger, deserved no better than this torment of knowing it.

Uncomplicate it. Don’t make excuses. Some of life’s biggest heartaches come from missed opportunities and lame excuses. Don’t miss out on what could be the best chapter in your life because you’re too busy rereading the last one.

How can the most cruel and despicable create something as breathtaking beautiful as this?

The thing I am most afraid of is love. When you say you love someone you are giving them license to hurt you.

Growing up seems easier for men, maybe because their rites of passage are clearer. They perform acts of bravery on the battlefield or show they're men through physical labor or by making money. For women, it's more confusing. We have no rites of passage. Do we become women when a man first makes love to us? If so, why do we refer to it as a loss of virginity? Doesn't the word 'loss' imply that we are better off before? I abhor the idea that we become women only through the physical act of a man. No, I think we become women when we learn what is important in our lives, when we learn to give and to take with a loving heart.

Love doesn't come with an on-off switch. It's made of too many threads of memory and hope and heartache that weave themselves into the very core of who you are.

I wear a necklace of hope with pearly beads. When I met you, it broke, and the beads spilled all over the floor, into the gutters.

I don't know about homeless, but I'm never going to let you be hopeless. Or loveless. To be heartless however, well, that is your choice to make.

Bruised, beaten, shaken, weakened, tossed, thrown, lost, alone, heard, helped, healed, hope... it still works.

I've never been in love. I will die without knowing what it feels like to need to see one person's face when you go to sleep at night, to crave seeing it when you wake up. I wish I knew.

...what happens when you returnand find nothingbut a hollowed shell,shingles and floor,walls and echoesand the light that lead you herehas now burned outand the ones who built ithave traveled afarand you cant go to them,no matter what shoes you wear.

I answer the heroic question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with 'It is in my heart and mind and memories.

She's fire...but she will not burn you. She knows all too well how it feels to live with ashes.

Miracle: to love more with an irreparable heartache

He knows her like man knows earth, touching the surface but unaware of her depth.

i know it all ends the same, but i was interested in seeing how you would break my heart.

my feelings tend to last longerthan my lovers doand it's made a monsterout of my heart.

Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of meAnd it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me

Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.

Everything is all right,When you’re here,When you’re right next to me,When my hand is in yours,Don’t leave me,Don’t leave me empty handed.

It is usually unbearably painful to read a book by an author who knows way less than you do, unless the book is a novel.

As much as I would really like to have saved myself heartache, embarrassment or gossip, I also know that my biggest mistakes have turned into my best lessons. And sometimes my greatest career triumphs. If my life had been turbulence-free, maybe my music would be beige, maybe the stadiums wouldn’t be full and the mantle would be a little more empty.

I have always wanted to give you the world, so I started giving you pieces of the oceans that kept us apart.

Our spirits are connected honey. Wrapped in firsts of gnarled heartache. But I promise not to let go if you don't.

True love will break you, it devotes to break your beat up, broken heart awaiting to repair and align you to your true purpose.

Her silence should be feared more than her words.

You can only trust your emotions as you can lie to yourself with your brain but not your heart.

She wasn't his girlfriend. She was his bubblegum girl--only fun until she lost her flavor.

Love is not the answer, peace is. Throughout my whole life I have experienced and seen others use love as a reason to treat people with unkindness by being controlling, jealous, shouting in anger, and projecting guilt and shame. If you love someone but there is not peace in your heart when you think of that person then your work is not done. Do not stop at love, continue all the way towards the freedom of inner peace. Love starts when peace begins. Without peace love is simply a mask for our insecurity, judgment, and egoic attachments.

A disastrous flaw in our design is that the heart always defies the brain.

Love alone means nothing unless you have a tortured heart for it to soothe.

I think there’s a point in everyone’s life where they realize that despite their best efforts, they have no choice but to surrender. That carrying on will only bring them more pain or heartache. I don’t think there’s any way that we can avoid these moments. But I just want you to know that I’m not quite there yet.

When I no longer have your heartI will not request your bodyyour presenceor even your polite conversation.I will go away to a far countryseparated from you by the sea— on which I cannot walk —and refrain even from sendinglettersdescribing my pain.

Given a choice between goose egg and heartache, I would choose heartache.

When you can share the lessons you learnt through tears and heartache and others find life in it and are better off for it, then beauty has come out of those ashes.

I cry even harder, thinking of how it could have been, of how I thought it would be. For the first time, I want to give up, to die, because suddenly everything is too much and there is no solution in sight.

You see that girl, she looks so happy right? But inside she's dying. She's hurt and tired. Tired of all the drama, tired of not being good enough, tired of life. But she doesn't want to look dramatic, weak or attention seeking so she keeps it all inside. Act's like everything's perfect but she cries at night, boy does she cry at night, so that everybody thinks she is the happiest person they know, that she has no problems and her life is perfect. Little do they know.

She knew that was not an honest prayer, and she did not linger over it. The right prayer would have been, Lord . . . I am miserable and bitter at heart, and old fears are rising up in me so that everything I do makes everything worse.

I am a wall. I am a wall. I am a wall. I am a giant and I tower above you. I am a giant and I can't hear your voice. There is familiarity in this. I spent years like this growing up, my mother hovering over my every move, me responding monosyllabically, face blank, voice blank, heart blank. It is a coping mechanism and it is easy, if you are able to block out false promises of love with the understanding of what love has become.

If I seem to not want to be with him now, it’s only because love scares me too, more than manipulation, because love is a choice I make and not something forced upon me. I trust him, but I don’t trust myself. I must have time to trust myself so I can completely love him.He’s the grenade. I’m the grenade. We’ll blow each other to pieces… Together.

Never let fear of short term heartache interfere with your long term happiness.

You're like a band-aid that is slowly ripping off, and I'm still wounded!

The heart is a generous muscle.

A person whom writes begins by putting down what they know about loneliness, shame, love, and heartache. In writing fully, they discover many other aspects of themselves that they never suspected including doubts, beliefs, ironies, and farcicalities.

Time stops for no one, and if we allow ourselves to focus on the negative we might miss out on some really amazing things that life has to offer. We can't go back to the past, we can only take the lessons that we have learned and the experiences that we have gained from it and move on. It is because of the heartaches, as well as the hardships, that in the end help to make us a stronger person.

To ease a grieving heart is the world's greatest pleasure, more so, when the heart is yours.

As she looks through the window; while seeing him give her his world, tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembers the world she once had.

Don’t despair nowyou fell in love with the maskand not what was behindit touched the chords inside your heartand made it beatand now that you have seen behind itdon’t despair

What no one ever told me was that sometimes ‘time’ only adds layers to the wounds and if you scratch off the dust years later, you will still find him in your blood and flesh, residing in a vacant house that you thought had no tenants. Time. They never said that time only teaches us regrets.

Is it just me, or is that guy the coolest boyfriend ever invented?" "It’s not just you." And there was that same dull pain-the one I get sometimes when I see the two of them together and realize I’ll never have that. I gave Amanda a smile. "He’s great. I’m really happy for you." And that was a hundred percent true. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

One that society can't forgive, but I can.

Eli had shone a light into my world, he'd lit up the dark corners just by existing and even if I walked away now, I knew I'd ache for him.

And you're right, I do love you Eden. I will follow you into eternity, or until after this weekend when we all die gruesome, painful deaths... But with every breath I have left, I will use it to love you. Because, Eden, I want this... You; I want you more than life, more than anything. There was a time when I didn't think I was strong enough to face you again, or what is between us. I was too afraid of the heartache, of being shattered again. But now, it doesn't matter, nothing matters except you. I will take an eternity of hardship, of war or fighting my father, or anything, just to hold your love again. You are everything to me, my sun, my moon, the air I breathe. Nothing exists accept you. I love you.

A dream you once were,A dream of all my realities,A dream I can no long strive forIn the wake of my manly betayals

... how terrible is the pain of the mind and heart when the freedom of mankind is suppressed!

We are sometimes dragged into a pit of unhappiness by someone else’s opinion that we do not look happy.

The thing that is changing...Is it my surroundings, or myself?

Perhaps not everything happens for a reason. That is, until you make it so; because for everything there is a season, which can, in fact, become beautiful.

The beauty of life isn't the perfectioned moments or storybook endings; the beauty of life is when you fall flat on your face, the Lord picks you up, then you look around and cheer, after all, a merry heart is the medicine!

There is no cancer, no sickness, no sin, no reversal of fortunes, no curse, no heartache - nothing - that's greater than Jesus. Jesus heals. Jesus restores. Jesus brings life.

My soul hurts.

The worst feelings are the warm, anxious burning that portends your heart breaking followed by the wave of numbness that asphyxiates your soul.

If you truly love someone, he or she will inevitably love you back. If you find yourself in an emotional one way street, walk away! Trust that it’s not love.

Helping other people can be a cure not just for those who are in need, but for your soul as well.

Pain is inevitable, yet suffering is optional. It is our heart connections that make all the difference. When we experience mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual pain – love is the one medicine that transcends any synthetic or organic drug we use to suppress pain.

More commonly suffering breaks people, crushes them, and is simply unilluminating. You see how gruesomely human beings are destroyed by pain, when they have the added torment of losing their humanity first, so that their death is a total defeat...

Your world is just as empty as your heart!

Don’t be with him, don’t want him, don’t go with him. Be with me. Want me. Stay with me.I don’t know how to be without you.

Sometimes a broken heart can mend something else's brokenness

I knew that the pain I felt now was here to stay. In many forms. Through many nights.

He needs a looser association. He needs something that implies a man who wants the ice shard to remain in his chest, who's learned to love the sensation of being pierced.

I’ve reached the vanishing point without you.Here my heartache begins with your paintrying to find an unborn startin this fatal disappearanceFrom the poem ‘Me with the Vanishing Point

At the end of your life, go out with a bruised-up, worn out heart that gave too much and loved too strongly and felt too fiercely.

We declared war on one another's heart. And once the bombs dropped, & wars of words began, all that was left were the ruins of what was once everything. Something once so beautiful, that even those dull ruins held it's own tragic beauty all their own.

How much do we remember of what hurts us most? I've been thinking about pain, how each of us constructs our past to justify what we feel now. How each successive pain distorts the preceding.

My life is a room filled with love letters and goodbye notes.

A love where no one gets hurt doesn't exist.

People maybe smiling but look to the eyes because they can’t hide the sorrow, pain, and heartache they're trying to hide behind their smile.

The wounds from that time have already become scabs.

MOTHER IS WATERI wish I couldShower your head with flowersAnd anoint your feet with my tears,For I know I have caused youSo much heartache, frustration and despair –Throughout my youthful years.I wish I could give youThe remainder of my lifeTo add to yours,Or simply eraseThe lines on your face,And mend all that has been torn.For next to God,You are the fireThat has given lightTo the flame in each of my eyes.You are the fountainThat nourished my growth,And from your chalice –Gave me life.Without the wetness of your love,The fragrance of your water,Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice,I shall always feelthirsty.

Thus ended the first and adventurous part of his existence. What followed was so different that, but for the reality of sorrow which remained with him, this strange part must have resembled a dream.

He faced Doug. His eyes were wet. "I am not one of your tricks, Douglas.""Of course, you're not.""That's what I feel like tonight, seeing you in there with all those bodies. One of a thousand nights. One of a thousand fucks. And fuck you for making me feel this way. And fuck you again for making me say fuck in this beautiful place.

Jealousy from a love affair is something even God can admit.

Smile is the arch of an arrowed heartTears are waters to make pain's life start

Be free to do what you want to... before the time is through.

Only pain can define the meaning of tears.

Withdraw from talking about leaving someone behind. Just rekindle the friendship and love while you still have that moment together.

Years of love, followed by heartache. Those are the years that define me.Those are the years that know– love’s eternity is you.

We’re both in a rut. And when two people have the different open wounds, they can relate and try to heal each other. Maybe it’ll be the same for Kayla and me. It’ll be a long a run, but we might as well try.

I trusted you with my scarsBut now I'm bleedingSaid I was your moon and you were the starsYou're so deceivingI trusted you with my scarsBut now I'm bleedingThe wound is deep Blood is seeping

Loving unconditionally, was love so sublime.Lost without you now, I thought we'd have more time.

If you think of the moon as already used, it’s not as difficult to take in, because then it’s just like you,Traveled the world like you,Seen the globe like you,But, it’s still bright.

Maybe that's what I needed. Another tattoo. Some pain on the outside to ease the pain on the inside.

You're the optimist all the way through, pretending to be a pessimist on the inside, because you can act like it hurts less if you say you knew all along it was going to go down like that.

Somewhere, somehow, maybe I can find someone who can make my heart beat again.. For everyday that I pine for your love, and for every single time you reject me, I start to die deep inside.. That throbbing pain has slowly turned into numbing emptiness..

Her eyes stung from crying for so long and having some tears dry on them. Her body was weak from the exercise but she did not feel better. While she was crying she had wanted someone, anyone to come and hold her. She had crawled into her closet, hoisted herself up onto the shelf that had duvets and bedsheets and curled herself among those. Now she knew that no hug could erase her pain, no sort of embrace could bind up her heart. She needed a new heart it seemed, her old heart was beyond repair.

The more you try to protect yourself from love, the more pain you bring to yourself and those that love you

Never expect someone to care for you or to care about your feelings and emotios Everyone's fucking heartless, people just don't give a damn about your stupid feelings or your boring stories. People only know how to fool you around and use you for their own benefits.

It isn't a bit of use my pretending I'm not crying, because I am... Pause to mop up. Better now.Perhaps it would really be rather dull to be married and settled for life. Liar! It would be heaven.

In the end, you will not see the physical beauty in others that caught your eye, but the fire that burned within them. This kind of beauty is the bonfire you had to attend.

I can have patience for anything, but it's waiting for love, that kills me a little each day.

Doctoring her seemed to her as absurd as putting together the pieces of a broken vase. Her heart was broken. Why would they try to cure her with pills and powders?

Stars are always dancing. Sometimes they dance twinkling away with the rhythm of your joyful heart and sometimes they dance without movement to embrace your heartache as if frozen sculptures of open-armed sadness.

If you can weep with your words, the meaning of your heart can be written forever

Do all hearts break the same way?

A torpid heart in agony needs a pen to bleed

We overestimate what we hear from others, what the facts may be. But the truth, it always lies in our hearts. When you choose the right person to love, you’re happy. Even after one or two failed attempts, when there are obstacles in the way, soon enough things have a way of working out. But if you’ve tried all you could, and you’re still suffering, then it’s time to let go. Just ask your heart. If the pain is more than you can handle, then it’s time to move on

My heart is my best asset, my heart is my biggest liability.

Such a nasty bruise,” he says, staring straight into my eyes. I am stunned he can see it. Delicate to the touch and tender on every side, the bruise is deeper than days. My hand automatically moves to my chest.Science taught me with valid assurance that my heart was fixed in my rib cage, but life has since shown me otherwise. My heart in fact dangles from a tangle of strings. The ends are grasped tight by numerous people who yank and release, having caused many painful bruises over time. I cry because they are invisible to most.“Such a nasty bruise,” he repeats, tugging on my poor heart. His kind eyes fall away from mine as I feel a squeeze on my arm. He twists it enough to show me a small, round patch of purple surrounded by a sickly yellowish corona. “Oh. My elbow.” I let the air exhale from my lungs. Another bruise forms where my heart has hit the floor. It is jerked up again. “Can I do anything for you?” I see in his eyes the mirror image of a finger—his finger—wrapped in one of the dangling strings. He tugs and I feel it.“No,” I reply to his question. But it is a lie. There is something he could do, along with all who grasp a portion of the web entangling my heart. I wish they would mercifully let go.

There's something about water that washes away the cares of the mind and heart.

He started to estrange her... And they became strangers Who knew each other's heart, So broken as they drifted apart.

Love hurts because it holds hearts

[His] leaving had stabbed her heart. This organ was not inclined to forgive her for vulnerability.

With every moment of heart ache,I get a little closer to 'Acceptance' somehow,Denying to expect what's best,But to approve it's the best for now!

The saddest noise in the world is that of a heart breaking.

I am not a broken heart,and I am not your fault.

Nothing much bothered you for a while and you kept walking like a silhouette through this town, saying hi’s and goodbyes, acting polite at all times. But there is no fire in your heart; you are not very concerned.

Please thaw my permafrost heart.

When you run out of love, it’s really hard to understand whether you have lost your heart or your heart has lost you…

Take a shower. Wash away every trace of yesterday. Of smells. Of weary skin. Get dressed. Make coffee, windows open, the sun shining through. Hold the cup with two hands and notice that you feel the feeling of warmth. 
 You still feel warmth.
Now sit down and get to work. Keep your mind sharp, head on, eyes on the page and if small thoughts of worries fight their ways into your consciousness: threw them off like fires in the night and keep your eyes on the track. Nothing but the task in front of you. Get off your chair in the middle of the day. Put on your shoes and take a long walk on open streets around people. Notice how they’re all walking, in a hurry, or slowly. Smiling, laughing, or eyes straight forward, hurried to get to wherever they’re going. And notice how you’re just one of them. Not more, not less. Find comfort in the way you’re just one in the crowd. Your worries: no more, no less.Go back home. Take the long way just to not pass the liquor store. Don’t buy the cigarettes. Go straight home. Take off your shoes. Wash your hands. Your face. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. It’s still beating. Still fighting. Now get back to work.
Work with your mind sharp and eyes focused and if any thoughts of worries or hate or sadness creep their ways around, shake them off like a runner in the night for you own your mind, and you need to tame it. Focus. Keep it sharp on track, nothing but the task in front of you.Work until your eyes are tired and head is heavy, and keep working even after that. Then take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes.
Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. 
You’re doing just fine.
You’re doing fine.I’m doing just fine.

Sometimes the burden of love is heavier than a heavy heart

Daemon clung to Surreal as she flew along the Winds, too weak to argue, too spent to care. His heart, however... His heart held on fiercely to Jaenelle's soft, sighing caress of his name.Everything has a price.

When you betray your own heart, you suffer for life. Always be true to your heart!

When my hands can no longer make these hammers and strings play for you, my heart will always sing to you.

Speak to the breeze cautiously during those lonely summer nights.

The stars, like the hollow eyes of a god forgotten, marry the sadness of the exhausted hour and inspire a little chaos, a little gentleness, to those below. I look up at the sky and see everything I’ve ever lost,waiting for me.

You can learn things from a heart so bleedingWhen love bargains with deceitful pleading Hours soar from dawn to dawn splitting your time Don’t hear melody from a soundless chime

you are ever the only onei want to giveall the peachesin my heart tothe only one by whomi want them bruised.

Every heart needs a cutting part sharper than a blade to stab agony

my heart no longer beats but is a tugging muscle,

My heart is kerosene, my mind a match. I’m seconds away from igniting.

Choose wisely From those who start A fire in your heart. Some may burn you to shreds,While you were looking for warmth.

Lingering, bottled-up anger never reveals the 'true colors' of an individual. It, on the contrary, becomes all mixed up, rotten, confused, forms a highly combustible, chemical compound then explodes as something foreign, something very different than one's natural self.

Only yesterday a young woman came to me wanting a trap set for a man with a sweet smile and lithe arms. She was a fool, not for wanting him, but for wanting more of him than that.

The cracks in your heart are there so the light can shine through.

His hand reached up to his chest and rubbed at the area over his heart as if it hurt him.

His heart expanded until he was nothing but a heart. A giant pounding heart on two shaking legs walking over to her.

Compassion nourishes the wilted heart.

When my heart is better, less shrunken, I will throw her out there to love again, without hesitation, even knowing what we know.

I have worn my heart on my sleeve because it is too painful to carry it inside my chest.When I carry it on my sleeve, it has the freedom to exist, to beat in rhythm with the Universe.I feel like I'm more alive and yes, there are those who out of curiosity will say or do things that can cause its delicate existence to feel pain and sorrow.I would rather deal with that, than to put it back in its little cage where it knows nothing else but the rhythm of my body and my Ego.My heart was never meant to be part of my Ego.My heart was meant to experience the Soul.

Gratitude is the best food to start and sustain you. Hankering creates hunger, unhappiness, bellyache, headache and heartache - and often leaves a bitter taste

There is no indication that God explained to Joseph what He was doing through those many years of heartache or how the pieces would eventually fit together. He had no ways of knowing that he would eventually enjoy a triumphal reunion with his family. He was expected, as you and I are, to live out his life one day at a time in something less than complete understanding. What pleased God was Joseph’s faithfulness when nothing made sense.

My tattoos, like most people's, were reminders, badges of personal experiences. Yes, I might wear them on my skin for the world to see, but their meaning was a little too personal.

A mind can bleed a heart to death.

I'm grateful for past betrayals, heartaches, and challenges... I thought they were breaking me; but they were sculpting me.

In fairy tales the evil characters disappear or die, in reality, evil spreads while you wait for your hero on a horse, only to realise the sword to save yourself was always in your hand...

Put all your pain on a piece of paper, write it all down, every experience, every ache, every hurtful moment. Then take a match, and set fire to that piece of paper. All the hurt you have inside you is burning just as it burnt inside of you, until it is completely gone. From this moment forward you are free. Nothing can harm you. No past. No present. No future. You are reborn into water, and nothing in the entirety of this world can set fire to water, nor crush it. Whatever pressures you face, you will float. Whatever tries to sink you, you will rise up. Today, right now, in this moment, you are a warrior. Now smile, it will set fire to those who sought to burn you...

Some people are lucky to find love, others must settle with being liked...

Never knew the word Goodbye could scatter my heart into pieces. Just 1 word, could made me cry over you.

Thank you for the pain. At least I am no longer afraid to face it next time.

Honor LostAmbulant sunshine piercedthe soot covered glass ~the feeble man wandered byin this ritual morning pass ...

I thought I would die without you, in reality I was reborn...

Even the Sun gets tired of rising, but he does it out of love for the Earth...

Live for what you love, and die for what you're unwilling to live without...

We search for happiness across every landscape, if only we knew that the seed in which it first grows, is planted within ourselves...

Threatening a current or former partner isn't passion, or love, or heartache. It's violence, it's abuse and it's a crime.

Most days, I’ve got this impermanence thing down just great. It doesn’t bother me; what’s to bother? Most days, I sit comfortably with the knowledge that I’ll die alone, and I feel nothing so strongly as my embrace of my nothingness. Most days don’t really matter, because there is only this day, and right now I feel like fear is all I am. I don’t want you to leave. Just let me pretend you won’t.'He wrapped his arms around me and we slept. For that night, we would last forever.

A heart given freely is the most vulnerable and selfless thing one can offer another human being. It can be as fragile and needy as a newly born infant, or as solid and self-supporting as a granite pillar, yet it is the hands of the recipient that determines its ultimate fate.

I’m not brave enough to love youThe same wayYou’re not strong enough to take me on.

Because of that, he didn't know how to love someone who actually loved him. He had learned a twisted, tormented kind of love filled with pain and exploitation.

She averted his eyes, but not before he recognized the pain in them, a tormented and languished gaze, a stare preserved for people who were able to love deeply enough that they could be destroyed by it.

Cry your grief to God. Howl to the heavens. Tear your shirt. Your hair. Your flesh. Gouge your eyes. Carve out your heart. And what will you get from Him? Only Silence. Indifference.

I found him between a reality and a nightmare.

Unlike a variety of other relationships,friendship requires an acknowledgement by both parties that they are involved or it fails to exist.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

There is never a reason good enough to be out of alignment with peace.

We are all meant to be a little broken, it's just about finding someone who will take the time to mend you. Someone who loves you enough to want to find the pieces that may have fallen from you and glue you back together. This is what love is, to restore someone when they have been broken and chipped, and all the while, feeling content whilst mending them...

Tender Ember...Barred and brandedto be forever unlovedI was a tender emberseeking solace from above...

It is strange... the reasons one feels he doesn't deserve things.

I find it funny that you could pass the same person on the street, in a store, or even in your neighborhood many times before actually meeting, thinking you’ve never seen them before, but when you are finally introduced, they seem to pop up everywhere.

Blessed are those with cracks in their broken heart because that is how the light gets in.

In my sleep I have my nightmares, awake I have my thoughts, I am not sure which is worse.

Sometimes you have to know what you're willing to sacrifice to be the person you are meant to be.

She made him yearn for a future his kind could never have, and a connection he sure as hell didn’t deserve.

If you’re always looking back at what you’ve lost, you’ll never discover the treasure that lies just up ahead.

She didn't want to be reminded of her past or how different her present was from the future she'd taken for granted.

Nothingness...there in this placewhere nothingness takesbut for the glimmera steadfast shimmerall would be consumed...

I am not sad anymore. I am not weak or tender or quiet like you remember because the second you said those words and closed that door, I sold my soul to the part of myself I had buried in order to love you, to let you touch every inch of my rotten body, for I wanted to be touchable and not so strange. Not so sad and tender, like I’ve always been, they say, so I changed. And then your glances and words throwing knives with no return about my change of habits and ways of living, being, and I nodded and smiled, dying silently a little bit inside.

Sometimes you just have to choose to let things go, to move on.

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.

Teddy wondered, and not for the first time, not by a long shot, if this was the day that missing her would finally be too much for him.

There are the girls we love, the men we look up to, the tenderness, the friendships, the opportunities, the pleasures! But the fact remains that you must touch your reward with clean hands, lest it turn to dead leaves, to thorns, in your grasp.

Even when the sun was shining she couldn’t see it. The whole house was closing in on her and she was suffocating.

Rain is a lullaby heard through a thick, isolating blanket of clouds. It is the tinkling harp of water droplets; a moist breath whistling through willow reeds; a pattering beat background to the mourner's melody. Rain is a soft song of compassion for the brokenhearted.

…while God does listen, knowing what He knows about us, and how well we take disappointment, often he'll find a way to save us all the heartache and trouble we unwittingly plead and beseech and continually pester him for; ever a loving, wise Father, he will just simply answer, “no,” by default, by not answering “yes.

And then there is this jewel with its many facets of wisdom. It’s not difficult to imagine the breadth and depth of this sentiment – at least where astuteness and faith are an inseparable dynamic duo running rampant: “…while God does listen, knowing what He knows about us, and how well we take disappointment, often He will find a way to save us all the heartache and trouble we unwittingly plead and beseech and continually pester him for; ever a loving, wise Father, He will just simply answer, “no,” by default; by not answering, “yes.

Solace of Silencesurreal synapsesof a melancholy dronea dream per chanceshe dared not be alone...

Defined simply, narcissism means excessive self-preoccupation; pragmatism means excessive focus on work, achievement, and the practical concerns of life; and restlessness means an excessive greed for experience, an overeating, not in terms of food but in terms of trying to drink in too much of life...And constancy of all three together account for the fact that we are so habitually self-absorbed by heartaches, headaches, and greed for experience that we rarely find the time and space to be in touch with the deeper movements inside of and around us.

You’re thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it sliplet it gosay ”I give up” one last time and give him a sad smile.You’re thinkingit shouldn’t be this hard,shouldn’t be this dark,thinkinglove could flow easily with no holding backand you’ve seen others find their match and build something greattogether,of each other,like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great thingsone by one, always together, and it seems grand.But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn’t live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone—no more—makes your chest tighten up and maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle.You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming gardenbut that’s not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults, the ugly words in the winterwalking home alone and angrybut falling asleep thinking you love him.This is your fairy tale. The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don’t go I need youlike you need meand maybe it’s not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and your castleand you can run from it your whole life but this is herein front of you.Maybe nurture it?Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an houror two.This is your fairy. It ain’t perfect and it ain’t honey sweet with roses on the bed.It’s real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love. Don’t throw it away searching for someone else’s love. Don’t be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go. Be someone’s someone for someone.Be that someone for him.That’s your fairy tale. This is your castle.Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love. It’s yours if you make it so.Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.

Marriage is not easy, I thought to myself. It’s not supposed to be easy. It’s two different people, from two different backgrounds, trying to build a life together for better or worse. It’s something you have to work at every single day. There are going to be hard times and those are the times you are supposed to fight like hell.

If you want to heal a broken heart,Be smart! That's all an ancient art.Start by loving the very small partsThat were left there shattered apart.

I wanted to write you a love poemBut my heart feels out of tuneSo I coax my breath into the darkness of my rib cage And invite it to fan openMaybe I would say something like,"One day, I would like to fall in love with you,"And here I pause while the tears that have been threatening to rain down all day swell high in my chest, blurring my vision"One day, I would like to fall in love with you,"I will start writing again, & continue,"wherever you are, whoever you are, but in this moment, I will fall in love with me."My brow furls ever so slightly, because that is not what I expected to sayI pause again & allow the container to soften, for the edges to get blurryAnd the tears, one by one spill overAnd all the holding of the day crumples awayAnd I am me again & you are you again,too

Although she was beautiful, he knew that that wasn’t enough anymore.

It's life, it's happening to you right now, what are going to do with your time here? Are you going to help people? are you going to chase your career, start a family or buy many properties; independently? Whatever it is, make a choice and do something with it - one thing is certain, most people die living their life, never a day before or after, only when their truly experiencing. That could be tomorrow, would you be proud of everything you became and achieved? If not, now is your second chance.

If I did anything right it was when I decided to practice forgiveness and free my heart from pain.

Forgiveness is a heartache and difficult to achieve because strangely, it not only refuses to eliminate the original wound, but actually draws us closer to its source. To approach forgiveness is to close in on the nature of the hurt itself, the only remedy being, as we approach its raw centre, to reimagine our relation to it.

People tended to forgive only partially. They forgave in order to, one day, get a chance to remind those they’d forgiven about their failings. They forgave to feel righteous. That’s why forgiveness was so painful – because it meant conceding. It meant letting go of her case without a rebuttal. True forgiveness knew no justice. It was liberating, most probably… but freedom comes at a cost. Freedom is never free.

When you lose someone, you get used to living day to day without them. But you’ll never get used to the “10 second heartbreak.” That’s the time it takes to wake to full consciousness each day and remember…

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor."Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee--Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"Quothe the Raven, "Nevermore.

Sunlight’s warmth on my face awoke me in the morning. I didn’t remember falling asleep or how I came to be in my own bed. But I did recall nightmares. Awful nightmares featuring Gwen.I turned my head to stare out an open window where the sun shone in full splendor, bleaching a clear sky enough to tell it was going to be a beautiful spring day. The air smelled of rain from overnight showers, mixed with a strong floral scent. A large lilac bush outside was responsible for the perfume. I breathed in the clean and fragrant air. My eyelids fluttered, blinking at a stunning reflection of daylight off the glass. The blue beyond gave an exquisite glow to my room. All of it was an invitation to bask in a new day—an invitation I declined because none of that mattered to me. The world might as well come to a dark and ugly end. I saw no reason for beauty or life to go on so long as Gwen was lost. Rolling over in bed, I felt the vice grips wrench at my heart again as I cried myself back to sleep.

I've lost someone, too; someone I loved. I know how you feel."- Does it get easier?"Yes. But you'll never be the same again.

And now it's been half a winter since Harry vanished, and I can finally rest my thoughts. I ought to feel relief. Of this I'm sure. But do you know what it's like to hold proof of the last heartache you'll ever know in your own raw hands? I hadn't known, either, not until Gus delivered Harry's red hat yesterday morning, a cork bobber sewed on where the pompom should've been.

I stand, and wait among the sea foam. I swim in my own tears-I sing without my voice. I do not reach for higher ground, because I have lapped in the churning waters.

You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since--on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to be displaced by your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God Bless you, God forgive you!

Maybe you had to come close to losing something before you could remember its value.

Sometimes you're going to have to let one person go a thousand different times, a thousand different ways, and there's nothing pathetic or abnormal about that. You are human.

There were many tears, many unsure times, many troubled moments. The fun memories were only a few, but even so, those memories will shine bright like stardust, and continue to shine on in my heart.

We may be different, but in this moment we're feeling the exact same thing: the sad kind of bliss where you realize, suddenly, how perfect your life really has been all along. So perfect it hurts, and you could let yourself weep if you wanted. So perfect that even though everything you know is ending, you truly believe life will continue to be beautiful, even—or maybe especially—in those pure moments of loss.

One lost easiest what one held in one’s arms— never what one left.

I stood in your doorway this morningdreaming you’d turn aroundyou’d tilt your headyou’d softly whisper ”stay”or that you’d grab my armsto shake me while askingwhat the hell are we doingwe loveeach otherand this is not rightso we will make this worknow stay!You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal manwith your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked onand the streets are so clean here people rushing to workand maybe I should be tooby nowat this agethis stagethis town.I will stand in that doorway dreamingfor many nights to come.

What I want to know is how you go on when you look aroundand don’t see anywhere you want to go without the only personyou can’t have.

You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest,and if you see a fire from the shore tonightit’s my chains going up in flames.

You're gone and you left me. My heart has dissipated. The only thing I can feel is the blood rushing through my veins and the strings that hold my fragile heart together.

Turn off your phone, and your computer and your mind. Find your heart center and send it compassion. See the holiness in everyone you meet. Honor it.Know your worth. Know your worth. Know your worth.Accept no less. Become familiar with the space where compromise is unkind. Nurture your exquisite loneliness. Let it teach you. Light candles at every opportunity. Always wear perfume, it helps you remember yourself. Touch your inked ribs lightly when you forget who you are.

Keeping busy is the hardest part. When I find myself still, clear of thoughts, I can still feel you holding me.

I have been loved," she said, "by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

When we take too long to forgive the people we love, we can sometimes be too damn late for it to matter.

Once I was in the cold dim room, without furniture or carpet or rugs, only a dollhouse that wasn't as wonderful as the original, I opened the tall and narrow closet door and began my ascent up the steep and narrow stairs. On my way to the attic.On my way to where I'd find my Christopher, again...

I had heard the wind from the mountains calling me last night, telling me it was my time to go, and I woke up, knowing what to do.

I was the last of the four Dresden dolls. Only me... and I didn't want to be here.

The sun was hot and bright. A day for fishing, for swimming, for playing tennis and having fun, and they put my Christopher in the ground.

Only I had dry eyes, a dry heart.

I've decided. The next time I cry, it'll be for "someone special", and it'll definitely be "tears of happiness.

This is probably going to be one wound that can never be healed.

I'm going to move on, while carrying these feelings with me.

I felt like an integral part of my being had just been ripped out of me, only to have it replaced with something that did not belong.

I think there were times when I was so afraid of losing you that I forgot I even had you at all.

Time possesses emotional potency. For persons whom suffer from of bereavement, time possesses a healing capacity. Passage of time cures heartache by dimming the mind’s attunement to painful occurrences. For some people, the passage of time is akin to placing a welcomed physical boundary between themselves and past horrors. Passage of time allows us to forget and the ability to forget is medicinal. Time acts as a mental barrier between our present mental state and the pain that we once felt.

There is the scent too. Wonder follows it; wonder about how a boy can smell like that when he probably has no idea. He smells like the woods in the winter or the rain when it first falls, or maybe it’s just the way he always smells and there is no way to define it.

She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness.

My pain builds like storm clouds―massive, dark, and heavy with teardrops. Moisture falls torrential as if my world is a violent, eternal downpour; however, at long last the source runs dry and the bitter storm does cease. Blue skies dare to glow where the gloom has dissipated. I breathe it in, hoping to cleanse my inner soul. A laden heart tells me the truth: the clear sky is an illusion. Old pain rushes back like a flood, providing means for clouds to form and expand once again until it is too much to bear and the heaviness turns to rain. I cannot find refuge from this woe. It is my never-ending heartache.

She closes her eyes, and I can see the moisture. She’s deep-breathing again, and I notice her hands are clutched around the opposing wrists, nails digging in deep, hard, scratching. Pain to replace pain.

Whatever he goes through, I feel. Whatever I go through, he feels. It’s what happens when two people become one: they no longer only share love. They also share all of the pain, heartache, sorrow, and grief.

Don't lick your wounds unless you care to taste the sting a second time.

Sometimes I guess it just feels better to know that you have someone to help you when you can’t even help yourself. ~ Willow Mosby (Exposing ELE)

You are everything I have in this world Gracie

He sank to his knees, absolutely full of despair and sadness. For a long time, droplets of blood continued to fall into his lap.

Secrets are festering parasites to a relationship, devouring their hosts from within, leaving behind a empty hollow husk of what once was.

Sorry. Don't need sorry. Not in this house. Sorry laid the hearth here. Sorry ways and sorry people and heavensent grief and heartache to make you pine for your death.

Maybe heartache was more normal than the absence of it.

Tears are words the mouth can't say nor can the heart bear.

When Cash woke up, he knew immediately something was wrong. Even without looking, he knew; Harper was gone, and the space she’d left in the bed ached like a missing limb.

Heartache is my constant companion, and we’re perfect for one another. Two co-dependent peas in a pod. My past and my future.

We recognize that you've used substances to try to regain your lost balance, to try to feel the way you did before the need arose to use addictive drugs or alcohol. We know that you use substances to alter your mood, to cover up your sadness, to ease your heartbreak, to lighten your stress load, to blur your painful memories, to escape your hurtful reality, or to make your unbearable days or nights bearable.

Nobody should have to choose between a cold heart and a dead heart.

Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful―desperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.

Eyes so young, so full of pain ... Two lonely drops of winter rain ... And no tear could these eyes sustain ... For too much had they seen.

I deleted your number. Although I know the tired digits by heart, scout's honor, pinky promise.I am trying to talk myself out of every emotion I'm having, and of course, it is failing to a fault.I'm still sad, I'm still mad, I'm still heartbroken, I miss you.

Even if times are tough and you're enduring a terrible heartache, it's important to focus your anger on a vibrator, not another person.

The heart that bleeds, knows true heartache.-Nina Jean Slack

He hugged her tight, mixing their tears to be bottled and fermented, so they could be drunk on each other when this was all over.

Heartbreak might be a fact but you don't have to be a victim to it

As she looks through the window; while seeing him give her his world, tears rolled down her cheeks in remembrance of the world she once had.

She deserved someone who could see what she had to give and would lover her for it. Who wouldn't turn away from her every time she made a mistake. She wanted to be important to someone. Perhaps, it was unrealistic, but the alternative was far worse. She could live with a broken heart, but not at the expense of her soul.

Sometimes my heart hurts so much, I beat it with my fists. I try to run. But you cannot run from this. It waits for you. Even when you think you have escaped it, it is there.

Where were me parents? Where were Becky? I felt so alone, so lost that I could not see. By that I mean, everything round me were a blur, everything inside me were a blur of fear and shock. I heard meself crying and moaning, My oh my, my oh my . . . I still have nightmares ’bout that time. I still feel like a sharp piece ofice has stabbed me heart real deep. I was filled, filled to the brim with utter baffle and utter loneliness. p. 15

You can chase love. If you are lucky enough to catch it…is it really yours?

You must stay away from the one who brings nothing but heartache and death. Do you hear me? He brings nothing but death. Always has.

She had said he had been driven away from her by a dream...

Hey lady.” Sandy wrapped her arms around Darcy’s neck and kissed her cheek quickly. “So, are we burning anything of his in some occult ritual that will curse him and all his unborn children till the end of their days, or are we just going to key his car?

With a little heartache; Gone with the time, Are certain memories, Intricately designed.To call & narrate A story of blissful sunshine.

She was also a memory, the worst kind of memory--the kind that pulled you to your knees at just the sound of her name.

Traveling, she realized, was like a slow dismemberment of the body. It plucked the heart out of her and split it into pieces, leaving a bit behind wherever she went, never to be whole again.

You wanted to see the world. And yet, all I want is to see you.

In my recollection, there have been many places and people I have been both blessed and cursed to know. Much joy and heartache can come from immortality, for loneliness can be lethal. I have unfortunately witnessed many I cared for, both mortal and not, perish. I have never been able to own anything that was truly mine. Once, I possessed everything, but many moons have come since that time. -- Sacha Borishauski

I want to dive in the deepest trench, get locked in the darkest room,get lost in the biggest maze,travel longest to the furthest placebut keep my heart on the safest place...

Wilhelm’s smile reminded Harry of his father’s sad, resigned smile, the smile of a man looking backwards because that’s where the things that made him smile were.

The closer he was the less confident I was.

A feistiness of spirit girds us in the most treacherous of moments. A metamorphosis of spirit often occurs after a person conscientiously surveys the resultant outcome of surviving a momentous ordeal and they transfigure personal heartache into a magnanimous manner of living in a just and righteous manner.

Giving up doesn't make you a quiter, a loser or a failure.It makes you wise enough to stop holding on to what refuses to be held.Hence i say, letting go hurts,but holding on to what is no longer therehurts even more.

Psalm 37:44 Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

I barely brushed towards her cheek as I moved towards her mouth, her nails tickled my chest, driving me insane. Kissing her became my single reason for breathing.

What I am recommending to the unmarried person, therefore, comes straight out of the Word: Stay out of bed unless you there alone! I know that advice is difficult to put into practice today. But I didn't make the rules. I'm just passing them along. God's moral laws are not designed to oppress us or deprive us of pleasure. They are there to protect us from the devastation of sin, including disease, heartache, divorce, and spiritual death. Abstinence before marriage and fidelity afterward is the Creator's own plan, and no one has devised a way to improve on it.

Acknowledging our heartache and our hardship is the first step in coping and dealing with it.

His calm and gentle tone was like an anchor in a ferocious sea, keeping me from drifting into a current of heartache.

Understanding” may become “misunderstanding”, if no commitment or no responsibilities are assumed, no specific objectives set, no definite expectations met and common values and interests no longer shared. Mutual understanding may then, against all odds, end up in heartache, confusion and bewilderment. ("Mutual understanding" )

Everything is temporary, almost like a passing fase, some of laughter Some of pain. What we would do, If we had the chance to explore What we had taken for Granted the very day before, Some would say I'm selfish, To hold a little sadness in my eyes, But they don't feel the sorrow When I can't do, all that helps me feel alive. I can express my emotions, but I can't run wild and free, My mind and soul would handle it but hell upon my hip, ankle and knees, This disorder came about,as a friendship said its last goodbyes, Soooo this is what I got given for all the years I stood by? I finally stand still to question it, life it is in fact? What the fuck is the purpose of it all if you get stabbed in the back? And after the anger fills the air, the regret takes it places, I never wanted to be that girl, Horrid, sad and faded... So I took with a grain of salt, my new found reality, I am not of my pain,the disability doesnt define me. I find away to adjust, also with the absence of my friend,I trust the choices I make, allow my heart to mend. I pick up the piecesI retrain my leg, I find where I left off And I start all over again, You see what happens... When a warrior gets tested; They grow from the ashes Powerful and invested. So I thank all this heartache,As I put it to a rest, I move forward with my life And I'll build a damn good nest.

I never thought a little time and space would turn into miles and worlds apart

Underwater madness slipping into a haze, drowning and choking in repugnant nostalgic thoughts.

She walked away too far for me to call... and for her to hear my voice.

He flipped it open, gently tugged out the oft-touched photo and looked into a pair of familiar golden eyes. "She's happy, Andie," he whispered to his wife. Andromeda Quinn did what she always did. She smiled back at him, her beautiful eyes lit with that bright, golden light Harold Quinn loved so fucking much.

my own chocolate center has filled up with poison,the roses he gave me all twisted black

That's how hearts get broken, you know. When you believe in promises.

Red-hot anger takes away a lot of the heartache.

Do you ever think of me when you look up at the moon and the stars? When you look into the horizon as the sun sets? We're looking at the same sun, and the stars may burn brighter where you are, but I can't see them, and they're still there. I spend nights trying to see the stars that you see, but I end up seeing you in the stars instead.

Intense feelings of any kind keep people with you. Some you may want, others you won't. To forget people, and you never really forget, feel indifference.

I'll say that for all the good things, all the great things, the super wow things it can do, the heart is kind of an asshole. The strongest feelings we have are never when things are stable, never when things are solid, never when we can handle things. The sharpest feelings are when things are either super good or super bad, as if the heart only ever wants to add gasoline to a fire. And the heart has all the subtlety of a freight train. It's going to hit you, and it's going to hit you hard.

Falling asleep with hopes and wishes that I rarely get to hold in my hand for long…go me. All I’ve got are memories and secrets.

They should love you, just as you are. Parents should love their kids, right?" "You'd think so.

I could never hate you as much as I love you.

The memories of sensei I carry with me are more cruel than sensei himself.

The irony of the human heart is that it’s tormented both by the presence and absence of it’s own soul’s counterpart.

Beautiful, enticing, forbidden fruit will be offered to you when your "hunger" is greatest. If you are foolish enough to reach for it, your fingers will sink into the rotten mush on the back side. That's the way sin operates in our lives. It promises everything. It delivers nothing but disgust and heartache.

I beg your pardon, but don’t cry for me, Argentina. A little rain’s bound to fall on those roses of yours—a dribble, a drizzle, a deluge. Think you’re the only one with wet flowers? A tear rolls down my cheek and some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying trickles out with it. Why me? Why pain? Why suffering? Why heartache? Because we’re a forgetful bunch, always busy with the daily grind. We overlook the good things until we’re confronted with the bad. There but for the grace of God...and all that jazz. Life is how we measure it. And people have different currencies. Some are tangible. Others are carried in your heart. Like the woman beside me, I’ve been dwelling on what I’ve lost, not what I have. Her riches vanished in a moment. Mine, thankfully, remain — wonderful childhood memories, a caring husband, a baby on the way. Wet roses? They’ll dry. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the rest of my garden.

I love you forever. I am sorry I cannot love you now.

I love you till kingdom come, evergreen.

How? How will it help to tell you that I see his face every time I close my eyes? That I wake up and cry when he's not there? That the memories are so strong I can't separate hers from mine anymore?

Consider, O Lover, my throatwhite as cigarette paper.The crushed lavender of my knuckles. My heart, a dulled needle threaded throughtoo many patterns.

You promised me one night. I want you next to me tonight. We have the rest of our lives to be apart.

I was even a little glad that if it wasn’t going to be me she wanted, it was going to be someone who really deserved her.

My heart is sair-I dare na tell,My heart is sair for Somebody.

Love is indeed its own hallucinogenic affecting the mind, heart and mood

I may tear you apart but I'll put you back together.

Love doesn't leave you. Not all at once. It creeps back in, making you think it can be another way, that it can still be another way, and you have to remind yourself of the reasons that it probably won't be.

Supplication comes from a place of intrinsic desperation resulting from a broken and contrite heart.

JAMIE'S SONG 'Million Years/Billion Deaths':Every beat of my heart says,‘Who’d wanna be a heart?’Every cell in my body,Wants to split apart.Though I know I have to be strong.And I’m sure I won’t have to wait long.But when each day lasts forever,And when every night lasts much longer,Tell me how am I supposed to go on?But if each moment with you,Lasts as long as these lonely nights do,Then I’d wait a million years for you.Yes, I’ll wait a million years for you.And I’ll die a billion deaths to get to you.To get to you…Every breath I take whispers,‘Who’d wanna be in love?’Every vein in my body,Has bled dry, my love.Though I know I have to be strong.And I’m sure I won’t have to wait long.But when each day lasts forever,And when every night lasts much longer,Tell me how am I supposed to go on?But if each moment with you,Lasts as long as these lonely nights do,Then I’d wait a million years for you.Yes, I’ll wait a million years for you.And I’ll die a billion deaths to get to you.To get to you…

JAMIE'S SONG 'WHERE YOU ARE':I left my heart at your door,Don’t tread on it on your way out.It’s convulsing on the floor,Can’t you hear it scream and shout?I dropped my life by your feet,Don’t kick it as you walk down the street.I put my dreams in your hand,Don’t let them slip through your fingers like grains of sand.And my eyes will watch you from afar,Guide you like a shooting star.And you’ll see that I’ll always be where you are.Where you are.Yes, you know that I’ll always be where you are.Yes my eyes will watch you from afar,Guide you like a shooting star.And you’ll see that I’ll always be where you are.Where you are.

I find some small, twisted comfort in thinking that perhaps we used each other. Him, for a glimpse into what it would be like to live a life entirely different from the one he'd been raised to desire, and me for the steady diet of angst and emotional damage that seemed to make me better, sharper, like a sword against a whetstone.I was his intellectual escape from a long parade of pretty, empty girls... and he was my drug of choice -- unhealthy, probably lethal, but ultimately so addictive it was hard to turn away.The problem, of course, with this theory of mutual exploitation, is that it is the deepest of lies. There was nothing equal or mutual about the way we used each other. I barely scratched his surface while he sliced me limb from limb.There's no comfort in that. None at all.

I pour another drink and wash the taste of dashed dreams from the back of my tongue. I feel half-dead, but my broken heart somehow still beats. What a stubborn, senseless organ, to keep going when all hope and happiness are lost.

Grayson Dunn is in my head. He's under my skin. He's invaded me like a deadly disease and hijacked my immune system until I don't even bother fighting it anymore. I look at him, and I'm twisted into knots. Tangled into a messy spool of desire and desperation.

But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before.

I would rather be destroyed by you than loved by anyone else.

She was the wish of his life. He didn’t know how else to say it. He didn’t even know that he could really explain, just that every time he saw her he felt his bones might break under the weight of his wanting. His longing for her.

What hurts the most?Rejection..

It was as if her heart was in a vise, squeezing tighter and tighter until she couldn't breathe. The worst part was she was the one who had tightened the screws.

What's heartbreaking isn't that we can't be together. It's that now, I know better and now; I will never be able to love you or anyone else in the same way again.

She knew Neal loved her. Good for him for realizing it wasn't enough to make him happy. That was very mature of him. He was probably saving them both a lot of heartache.

Some of us die long before our last breath. We perish in the fire of love, reduced to ashes in the consuming blaze. No, we do not die when our hearts cease to beat, but when they start beating the first timefor somebody else.

We share that misfortune, reaper...

When a heart breaks a substance spills out like cement and pours through the bloodstream, hardening everything. In time, I know my heart will mend and the rock inside will crack and crumble away. But for now I’m as solid as a column. And alone I stand.

(Divorce)We’ll remarry someday when we’ve grown, Like royalty who’ve earned the throne. An aisle made of gold, To have and to hold.My dress made of rags, A suit that’s so torn.All eyes are on me,But mine only on you. You give your hand,A king to his queen,But know this darling,Mulligans aren’t for the weak. By changing the rules,We’re changing the war,The wounds that we’ve known,Battle stains on the floor.But from this day on,The same as before, You are the apple,My eyes still adore.Worth more than one shot,Though we’ll face the worst a lot,Better days will come,If we stay and don’t run.And if a wave takes us out,I know we’ll figure it out. And if the current takes us in, I know we’ll do it all again.

i hate that its my favorite thing to watch her, because it shouldn't be. It triggers all these what-ifs in my head, and my mind begins imagining things it shouldn't be imagining...

Oh yes, even I cry. Just not over you. Who is "you?" The one who has to ask or the one who doesn't?

What plagues people is not those who don't love them, but those who do.

Only after a person has their heart broken does the world appear as it truly is.

That is when time stands still - when you watch the one you love, walk away.

It's a certain tragedy when agony and resentment are all you have left connecting you to someone you once loved.

That's what it felt like - that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

It was just a lie that seemed real.It was a promise that was never meant to be true.The forever that had a deadline.It felt like falling in love, but it was falling in aheartbreak café!

You reached into my chest with your words. When you spoke, my heart danced. Love muddled thoughts based in reason. Interest withered like a flower in dry heat then your words wrapped themselves around my heart and yanked it from my body. Now I stand bewildered by the sight of my heart beating on the cold concrete floor.

She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more heavily than she had felt the loss of his heart.

We hurt so much because we have lost a part of ourselves. If we have loved much, we must have given much also, and when everything's over, we feel as though we have lost everything.

We cannot love a person with an all accepting, transcending and encompassing love without being hurt somewhat, without being disappointed, without being failed of our expectations. We cannot love without being broken, yet we cannot continue in love without being stronger than our brokenness.

The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, came up every morning and raced across the blue dome and dipped into the sea of fire every evening.

It's not the loving that hurts this girl; it's the understanding of it for what it is, that it will never be returned in the same way, that threatens to destroy her. But to unload the words - "I love you" - on an innocent party who didn't ask for it, to reach across the dark space and touch him - it's like the world she knows could end if she dared speak these words, dared make such a move.

Could he be prosecuted for murder? Cause of death: broken heart. Murder weapon: words laced with bullshit.

With peaks of joy and valleys of heartache, life is a roller coaster ride, the rise and fall of which defines our journey. It is both scary and exciting at the same time.

Their lips touched now, mouths pursed tight, their eyes open, both of them stock still. The moment held, a kind of such glorious confusion.

Nothing in my life has ever felt so good, yet hurt so achingly bad.

It took me a long time and a lot of heartache to realize that just because you love someone doesn’t mean they deserve it.

Of all the heartache I will ever know, only some of it will be real. The rest, I will create.

I didn’t thank God. Doctor Carter, do you think everything happened the way it did because I forgot to thank God? Do you think that God might somehow be as petty as I am?

He looked at me intently before speaking. “Why do you do that?”I frowned at him. “Do what?”“Push everyone away.” Danny told me simply.I was a little stunned and when I didn’t say anything, Danny continued on.“Darcie, what are you so afraid of? Why do you shut people out?” He looked at me searchingly.“Because it’s easier that way!” I yelled at him suddenly and he looked taken aback. I took a deep breath to calm down and added, “And I don’t like feeling vulnerable.” Danny stared at me. “Being vulnerable is nothing to be ashamed of Darcie …it’s what makes us human.”I shook my head furiously. “No! Being vulnerable makes you weak – just like every other emotion … if you allow yourself to care, you only end up getting hurt.”Danny threw me a consoling look. “But there’s nothing wrong with caring –”“No!” I interrupted angrily. “I don’t want to care! You only end up getting hurt … and it hurts so bad that you can’t breathe. I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t want to feel at all! It’s just easier to shut everyone out … if you don’t care about them – you won’t get hurt!

He's pressing me to his chest. I melt. Oh, this is where I want to beI rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair repeatedly. This is home. He smells of linen, fabric softener, body wash, and my favourite smell - Christian. For a moment, I allow myself the illusion that all will be well, and it soothes my ravaged soul

I can't promise you that I won't hurt you," he said softly after it became clear I wasn't going to speak. Sincerity flowed from him like water in a river and it nearly broke my heart. "I can't say that I won't ever do something stupid, or forget your birthday or our anniversary or your favorite flavor of ice cream. I'm fallible; I'm gonna make mistakes. But I can promise you that I won't lie to you, and I'll never cheat on you. Your Cat is a part of you. She makes you who you are. I can't ignore that, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. All you need to do is trust me, Riley. That's all I'm asking.

I have tried to tell him in a dozen different ways that I am only six inches tall. I've told him I am as tall as his heart, that he could hold all of me in his hand, that I am shorter than I appear. Every time, he's acted as though I'm saying something romantic or poetic.

A shaft of sunlight pierced the dark cluds and she looked up to see a silver lining. It was a sign, she thought.

Desperation will drive you to do things you know will never make you whole again and even to lose the very thing you’re desperate for.

I can't loose you...you are the whole reason for everything in my life. Please don't do this!

Almost nine years later, I know that stars don’t burn forever, and even the brightest can shatter into a million, burning sparks before falling from the sky.

Keep making noise, I prayed, laughing. Bang drums. Clamor and ring bells for I cannot stand to hear the tired beating of this almost heart.

She had lost him. Lost him because she'd let him go. And she could not allow herself to regret that decision.

It all seemed so impossible, so difficult after searching for her, not knowing for so long. How many times had his daughter suffered some human sickness, death or heartache over the course of her many lifetimes? How many times had she loved, cried and been without her father when she most needed him most?

We’re soldiers, Emily. If we’re not elders or council members then that’s all we are. We’re here to serve those above us. We’re novel worthy, day walking, blood sucking, tortured souls trapped in a body that can’t die for all eternity with no feelings, no emotions and no heart. We don’t get to feel love, passion or desire. We do as we’re told, for the good of the clan and because we’re told to do it. And we protect people. So whatever grand delusions you have about being some kind of wonderful child and the master’s favorite are just misguided attempts to feel human again. Get over it.

Who am I to claim such boundless sorrow? This heartache, acute and true as it may be, is slight compared to all of this world. Five miscarriages, two stillborn, three live births, and Mrs. Connor is one of our fortunate. She is not disemboweled in the snow. Her hands have committed no atrocities. She believes in God. It is remarkable how we go on. All that we come to know and witness and endure, yet our hearts keep beating, our faith persists.

Yet this thou art alive, but if ye soar,My poor frail heart will have beat out its cryAnd sadly miss thy sweet form all the moreWhile helplessly I stand and watch you die.

I encourage anyone who has gone through hardships to look back through their life’s chapters and see what can be turned into a book. For you never know what heartache God, one day, can turn into a redemptive story.

And just like that,the cloth was torn. was it the days, weeks of the same argument was it the months without affection, or was it simply the year and a half wasted on empty promises from both sides?I don't know what ripped it, but here I sit with my needle and thread trying to fix it knowing it will never look as beautiful as it did when we first started weaving it.

Jax, I don't know if I can do this," I murmured."Do what?" he asked.I though for a moment as he watched me in silence. "Survive you," I whispered in answer."Maybe you won't have to...

I don’t know how long we’ve sat here. All I do know is that my heart feels torn in two. Have I been here hours? Or minutes? Heartbreak is timeless".

If you ignore the red flags, embrace the heartache to come.

There are many types of pain. The only one that aspirin won't help is a hurting heart. That's why there is alcohol.

And it killed me because I could never forget him. Couldn't because he'd permanently etched himself to me, left a part of himself forever within me. For so many years I'd loved him, but when he'd gone this time, he'd taken a part of me captive too, a piece that could never be retrieved because it would always belong to him...

And it killed me because i could never forget him. Couldn't because he'd permanently etched himself to me, left a part of himself forever within me. For so many year I'd loved him, but when he'd gone this time, he'd taken a part of me captive too, a piece that could never be retrieved because it would always belong to him.

Say no! I thought. Say you want yourself all for your own self. Say that you have no specific country, say that you are important without any story from above, say that your home is with me and the other girls up in the sky.

There are often great lessons to be learned at the roots of stress, drama, and heartache. Don’t let the magnitude of the circumstance blind you to the value of the lesson.

Let us do those things that our heart is asking us to do and from this day forth allow all souls that leave our presence feeling honored and deeply loved.

There weren't any promises of a future life together, either, but he didn't need to live like a monk anymore. Two years was more than enough time for soul-searching and penance. As long as Laney was close enough to touch, to breath in, to taste like his goddamn last meal, he would take whatever she offered and not ask any questions about what it might cost him when she inevitably left.

You can steal someone's Art,But not their Heart.You can immitate them,But you can never be like them.You can hurt them,But you cannot kill their will to love again.You can leave,But your space will always be filled by someone better than you.

Adieu! but let me cherish, still, The hope with which I cannot part. Contempt may wound, and coldness chill, But still it lingers in my heart. And who can tell but Heaven, at last, May answer all my thousand prayers, And bid the future pay the past With joy for anguish, smiles for tears?

It's just odd being a guest at the wedding. When you dreamed about it for so long, even if you we're a different person, and it was years ago. Sounds so stupid. I was stupid.

She, who had never liked weddings, had allowed herself this fantasy. Her wedding day to Rory. A pretty church in Sussex, festooned with spring flowers. Rows of relatives, and her, Elle, floating down the aisle in cream silk to 'The arrival of queen Sheba', with eyes only for him... Rory, slightly rumpled, slightly scared, her love, her only one.But that wasn't how it had turned out. She knew she was OK, watching him, in fact she was happy for him, happy for Libby. But she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the girl she'd been, who'd loved him so much. She was still dreaming somewhere, hoping this day would come.