Words worth keeping

I'm not sentimental--I'm as romantic as you are. The idea, you know,is that the sentimental person thinks things will last--the romanticperson has a desperate confidence that they won't.

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.

I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.

He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.

You know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. It's not overrated. There's a reason for all those songs.

To me, Fearless is not the absense of fear. It's not being completely unafraid. To me, Fearless is having fears. Fearless is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, Fearless is living in spite of those things that scare you to death.

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

I love you like a fat kid loves cake!

Tonight I can write the saddest linesI loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

It’s probably not just by chance that I’m alone. It would be very hard for a man to live with me, unless he’s terribly strong. And if he’s stronger than I, I’m the one who can’t live with him. … I’m neither smart nor stupid, but I don’t think I’m a run-of-the-mill person. I’ve been in business without being a businesswoman, I’ve loved without being a woman made only for love. The two men I’ve loved, I think, will remember me, on earth or in heaven, because men always remember a woman who caused them concern and uneasiness. I’ve done my best, in regard to people and to life, without precepts, but with a taste for justice.

And when her lips met mine, I knew that I could live to be a hundred and visit every country in the world, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when I first kissed the girl of my dreams and knew that my love would last forever.

Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistable urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.

Look after my heart - I've left it with you.

The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them