Giving Up On Love Quotes

Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy - the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. ~ Brene Brown

Once you truly love, nothing else will do.
So now that you're gone I will choose nothing else. ~ Kate McGahan

She knows about men, knows a good deal of the world's character. But it is hard, whatever you have endured, to give up on love. Hard to stop thinking of it as a home you might one day find again. More than hard. ~ Andrew Miller

I'm like, over love. Crush, smush. I can't. I'm giving up on love at this point. I'm hoping for a crush. Actually, no. I don't want a crush. I want someone to crush on me. ~ Xosha Roquemore

A pity it is evening, yet
I do love the water of this spring
seeing how clear it is, how clean;
rays of sunset gleam on it,
lighting up its ripples, making it
one with those who travel
the roads; I turn and face
the moon; sing it a song, then
listen to the sound of the wind
amongst the pines. ~ Li Bai

The sand where he sat was warm to the touch but the night beyond the fire was sharp with the cold. He got up and dragged fresh wood in under the bridge. He stood listening. The boy didnt stir. He sat beside him and stroked his pale and tangled hair. Golden chalice, good to house a god. Please dont tell me how the story ends. ~ Cormac McCarthy

In a dark layer of Esme's memory there was a kiss. Vividly she recalled Mihai in the snow, naked and fanged. That kiss had conjured ancient passions a god had tried to erase, and Esme remembered the pressure of it and even knew the flavor of that black river. But it belonged to someone else. Tom's kiss, by contrast, wasn't passionate.Esme didn't even have time to close her eyes and tilt her face up to meet it, and it landed crooked and only half on her lips. It was clumsy and it ended quickly. And it was hers. ~ Laini Taylor

And.. are you willing to go all the way? To understand that food is only a stand-in for love and possibility and spirit? Because if you aren't, you will get caught up in gaining and losing weight for the rest of your life. But if you are willing, then the portal to what you say you want is truly on your plate. ~ Geneen Roth

I used to pinch those pages closed when I read the book to keep from having to see Joan [of Arc] fail. But now I love that picture. I love it so much. I love how Joan kept going right up to the end. It reminds me that sometimes defeat is the price of taking action. If you do something, you become a target. People want to take you down. That's a risk. But it's better to do too much, better to try to hard, better to have a crisis of faith and get thrown and climb back up on your horse and keep riding, than to see something wrong in the world and not do anything at all. ~ Madeleine George

He shrugged. "I have a stomach thing. Don't get close."
"Well, now you've spoiled everything," I said casually, working hard to fake it. "I was planning to seduce you in the broom closet." I pointed. "Right there."
A joyless smile appeared on Jamie's lips. "We are far too screwed-up for a goddamned love
triangle."
That's my Jamie. ~ Michelle Hodkin

Battles are fought in our minds every day. When we begin to feel the battle is just too difficult and want to give up, we must choose to resist negative thoughts and be determined to rise above our problems. We must decide that we're not going to quit. When we're bombarded with doubts and fears, we must take a stand and say: "I'll never give up! God's on my side. He loves me, and He's helping me! I'm going to make it!" ~ Joyce Meyer

Did you want to change into something more comfortable?" Adrian asks with a raise in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not away from naughty thoughts.

I smack his knee. "I'm comfortable, but I know you're not." He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies.

"You're right," he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad?

Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now.

He smirks. "You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this." He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest.

I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, "If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes."

"So if I'm not wearing clothes..." I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. "Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise. ~ Lilly Avalon

Hades

Where we go when he closes my eyes
and under what country;
some blue darkness, farther from hell;
a landscape of absense and root and stone.

There are no bodies here,
we dream shapeless dreams--
a constant, cloudless storm.

Mother, I'll never wake up from him.
I have already traveled too far.
My mouth is the color of his mouth
and his arms are no longer his arms;
they're mute as smoke, as my first white dress,
and the spear of his name, once ferocious,
dissolves on my tongue
like sugar, like birdsong, I whisper it:
Hades ~ Cecilia Woloch

Laura, this isn't love. Love lets you go on a trip without following you. Love can live without you for a week, knowing you'll come back.'
'No, it can't.' The afternoon shadows grew long and cold. In spite of the chill, a heat rose up inside her and flooded her face. 'That's how you know it's true love. When he can't live without you.'
Karen shook her head. 'That's how you know it's obsession. Or something else. ~ Natalie Standiford

Did you enjoy that?"

His eyes narrow and now he's frowning, like he's not entirely sure he understands the question. "Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn't it obvious?"

"Just answer the question."

"I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste," Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. "Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it. ~ Jessica Clare

If you fall for a dark-eyed beauty, pretty as a picture, with lips as sweet as a luscious rasberry, and a gentle face, unrumpled by kisses, like an apple-blossom petal in May, and she becomes your love - then do not say that love is yours: even though you cannot tire of her rounded breasts, of her slender frame that melts in your embrace like wax before a flame. . . . The day will come, that cruel hour will come, the fatal moment will come, when he face will fade, rumpled by kisses, her breasts will no longer quiver at your touch: all this will come to pass; and you will be alone with your own shadow amidst the sunscorched deserts and the dried up springs, where flowers do not bloom and the sunlight plays on the dry skin of a lizard; and you might even see the hairy black tarantula's lair, all enmeshed in the threads of its web . . . And then your thirsting voice will be raised from the sands, calling longingly to your homeland.
---
But if your love is otherwise, if her browless face has once been touched by the black blemish of the pox, if her hair is red, her breasts sagging, her bare feet dirty, and to any extent at all her stomach protrudes, and still she is your love - then that which you have sought and found in her is the sacred homeland of your soul. ~ Andrei Bely

Course they wouldn't have all the details, like whether or not they played in squares of sunlight on their walls, if they wore spiders on their hats, if they ate hamburger every other day, if they had ever made love in a yellow canola field tenderly or passionately or awkwardly. If they preferred dresses or pants, if they shaved their legs or didn't, or if they preferred red peppers to green. Stuff was happening. Even in Half-a-Life. Little things, but it all added up to something big. To our lives. It was happening all along. These were our lives. This was it. My mom was hanging on to the lives, the recorded lives, of these women. We might escape, but what if we didn't? What if we lived in Half-a-Life all our lives, poor, lonely, proud, happy? If we did, we did. These were our lives. If we couldn't escape them, we'd have to live them. ~ Miriam Toews

Abruptly he thrust his snow-drenched leather gloves against my cheeks.
I dodged. A raw carnal feeling blazed up within me, branding my cheeks. I felt myself staring at him with crystal clear eyes ...
From that time on I was in love with Omi. ~ Yukio Mishima

He taught me to fight, to defend myself, to stand up for what I believe in, and protect people I love. I thanked him for that lesson after that weekend in New Orleans when some guy put his hands on Delia, and I had to tear him apart. ~ Jolene Perry

Well, no, Sister Brannigan was the one putting her name on the checks to the cemetery. Someone else was making the deposits into her personal account." "But now that she's gone?" "I suppose the Neapolitan benefactor will have to find someone else if he wants to remain anonymous." Bree snorted, "For a second I thought maybe it might be Bernardo." "Well, why not? I mean, a little bank fraud isn't likely to keep my father up at night," Alessandro said. "But he's in New York," Bree reminded him. "Geography, darling?" Alessandro asked amused. "You say that with such pride it scares me," Bree said rolling her eyes. "I love you too," Alessandro smiled. "But no. If he was, why let us go off on this whole journey?" "It's Bernardo. If there's something I've learned about your father it's that the rules of logic don't apply to him. Or any other kind of rules," Bree added, "Maybe this is all some kind of big elaborate plan and we're gonna go home and find out he's been keeping Francesca and Adriano frozen in his basement in one of those sci-fi freezers that they say you can buy and use to come back to life in a hundred years." Alessandro shook his head at her, not impressed with her sense of humour. ~ E. Jamie

. . .In a heartbeat, you will fall right into that novel, that poem, the story that you are most in love with right now. When you learn to be able to decide in the moment to take breaks from your internal voices - even though it's only for a split second - you will be taking your first baby steps toward the full-out exhilaration of living in the midst of the wholly realized writer's life.

Then all the negatives - yes, even your cherished writer's block ego trip - will fade into background noise, then you will find silence, and your story will take over. Before you know it, you will be working calmly and clearly for hours, rather than for a couple minutes.

1 hour, not 1 second, 2 hours, not 2 seconds, 3 hours, 4 hours, 5 hours of allowing your mind to come to rest from the horrid, every day, mental chatter we lock ourselves up with - a time to anchor within the natural spaciousness that you already know instinctively, know from deep within will make you feel full inside. . . . ~ Terry Kennedy

M. I've never really thought of M objectively before, as another person. She's always been my mother I've hated or been ashamed of. Yet of all the lame ducks I've met or heard of, she's the lamest. I've never given her enough sympathy. I haven't given her this last year (since I left home) one half of the consideration I've given the beastly creature upstairs just this last week. I feel that I could overwhelm her with love now. Because I haven't felt so sorry for her for years. I've always excused myself - I've said, I'm kind and tolerant with everyone else, she's the one person I can't be like that with, and there has to be an exception to the general rule. So it doesn't matter. But of course that's wrong. She's the last person that should be an exception to the general rule.

Minny and I have so often despised D for putting up with her. We ought to go down on
our knees to him. ~ John Fowles

As much as childhood was the greatest thing that most of us have ever experienced, with it characterized by our care free attitude and our thirst and hunger to live life on each given day to the fullest. I love where my life is now, after all life was never intended for us to go backwards but simply for us to reminisce and keep moving forward. ~ Njabulo P. Vilakazi

Fake friends drill holes under your boat and destroy your relationship that could otherwise have been great. They will pretend that they love you, yet they are secretly working overtime on your downfall. It's up to you to know and understand the real reasons why you keep certain people in your life. It's never too late to get rid of dead wood. ~ Itayi Garande

His baritone voice grits out, "Eyes on me. Now."

I raise my eyes and peek up at him. He's got a punitive look in his eyes and his jaw is set. His ebony five o'clock shadow an angry mask. I've never seen him this way, but I kind of love it. Shh, don't tell anyone. ~ M.K. Gilher

Come here." Without regard for modesty, she pulled off her T-shirt and wadded it up to stanch his wounds. He splayed his fingers on her bare stomach and grinned. "Honey, I'm afraid I can't help you with that right now. Maybe later?" How could he joke and flirt when she was so afraid? "Max. You're bleeding. Maybe dying. I don't want to lose you."
"Come. Here." He grabbed her and pulled her down into the grass beside him. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed his grizzled cheek against hers. The sirens were getting closer. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. You're the one who got shot. Twice."
"I'm gonna live through both. I'm a tough guy, remember?"
"Damn it, Max - "
"Rosemary March. Did you just swear? You know I don't like hearing that from you," he teased. He pulled her in for a kiss that lasted until a groan of pain forced him to come up for air. "You get under my skin, Rosie."
"Like an itchy rash?" she teased.
"Like an alarm clock finally waking me up to the life I'm supposed to have. With you."
So when did the tough guy learn to speak such beautiful things? Tears stung her eyes again as she found a spot where she could hug him without causing any pain.
"I know I'm not the guy you expected to want you like this, and I know you weren't the woman I was looking for. Hell, I wasn't even looking."
"Neither was I."
"But we found each other."
"We're good for each other."
"I'm not an easy man ~ Julie Miller

Bit by bit, I found myself relaxing into the conversation. Kitty had a natural talent for drawing people out of themselves, and it was easy to fall in with her, to feel comfortable in her presence. As Uncle Victor had once told me long ago, a conversation is like having a catch with someone. A good partner tosses the ball directly into your glove, making it almost impossible for you to miss it; when he is on the receiving end, he catches everything sent his way, even the most errant and incompetent throws. That's what Kitty did. She kept lobbing the ball straight into the pocket of my glove, and when I threw the ball back to her, she hauled in everything that was even remotely in her area: jumping up to spear balls that soared above her head, diving nimbly to her left or right, charging in to make tumbling, shoestring catches. More than that, her skill was such that she always made me feel that I had made those bad throws on purpose, as if my only object had been to make the game more amusing. She made me seem better than I was, and that strengthened my confidence, which in turn helped to make my throws less difficult for her to handle. In other words, I started talking to her rather than to myself, and the pleasure of it was greater than anything I had experienced in a long time. ~ Paul Auster

And I want you to know that I heard what you said in that speech,' Rider said, his voice scratchy. 'I might've saved you all those years ago, but now you've saved me,'
My heart stuttered and then sped up. I reacted without thought. Placing the book on the bed, I launched myself at Rider just as he came off the window seat. We collided. I folded my arms around him as we went down onto the floor, me partially in his lap and his arms tight around my waist, his face burrowed against my neck. I felt a tremor run through his body and then he shook in my arms. I held him tighter as he broke into pieces, and years of holding it together shattered. I held him through it all.
Then it was me who put Rider back together. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

She bought me betta fish when I was six, after I kept telling her the same story, every day, about the tanks we had in my class at school, the betta fish, red and purple and blue and green, swimming lazily in the tanks, flashing brilliant and then dull. She came home with one on a Sunday, after she'd been out all weekend. I hadn't seen her since Friday, since she told Mam she was going to the store to buy some milk and some sugar and didn't come back. When she came back, her skin was dry and flaking at the corners of her mouth, her hair stuck out in a bushy halo, and she smelled like wet hay. The fish was green, the color of pine needles, and he had stripes down his tail the color of red mud. I called him Bubby Bubbles, since he blew bubbles all day, and when I leaned over his tank, I could hear him crunching on the fish food Leonie had brought home in a sample-size bag. I imagined even then that one day I could lean over his bowl, and instead of crunching, little words would pop out the bubbles that fizzed up to the surface. Big face. Light. And love. But when the sample size of fish food ran out, and I asked Leonie to buy me more, she said she would, and then forgot, again and again, until old day she said: Give him sold old bread. I figured he couldn't crunch like needed on some old bread, so I kept bugging her about it, and Bubby got skinnier and skinnier, his bubbles smaller and smaller, until I walked into the kitchen one day and he was floating on top of the water, his ~ Jesmyn Ward

What comfort there is in a cheerful spirit! how the heart leaps up to meet a sunshiny face, a merry tongue, an even temper, and a heart which either naturally, or, what is better, from conscientious principle, has learned to take all things on their bright side, believing that the Giver of life being all-perfect Love, the best offering we can make to Him is to enjoy to the full what He sends of good, and bear what He allows of evil! ~ Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

I have no chips on my shoulder. I like to be constructive. As I have said, I have inspired many persons to take up photography. As a matter of fact, I inspire myself. (When I take a good picture I give myself a bonus.). ~ Weegee

Don't cry Meg. It's not that bad."

"It's not that bad? Ha! I'm thirty years old, with two black eyes, a swollen nose, a big, honking, yellow knot on my forehead, and the haircut from hell. As if that isn't enough, I had a transvestite in my bed this morning, my husband is a lying, cheating, cradle robbing, bastard, who at some point slept with my best friend."

Jack scooted over to the middle of the seat, and stopped listening to his head and wrapped his arms around her. Big mistake! From inside, four faces were pressed to the window.

"My last orgasm-with a partner- was…hell I can't remember when! I frequently knock myself out for entertainment purposes, I have little boobs, big feet, squishy panties, nosy neighbors and demon possessed fish. God hates me!"

Jack held her tighter.

"I have frequent flyer miles at the hospital. I fed my husband marijuana Ex-lax brownies and shoved a marble up his butt."

Jack pulled away to look at her and she was serious. And crying. Big, sad, alligator tears that made his heart swell. "My mother is a holy rolling, Catholic Dr. Ruth, complete with condoms and Rosary beads. I write about relationships and sex, both of which I suck at and I hired a Private Investigator to pimp me out."

Jack burst out laughing and she pushed him away and swatted his shoulder.

"And now you're laughing at me. Could things get any worse? ~ Amy Johnson

The people that make this country work, the people who pay on their mortgages, the people getting up and going to work, striving in this recession to not participate in it, they're not the enemy. They're the people that hire you. They're the people that are going to give you a job. ~ Rush Limbaugh

You can fill this table up with people who are racist, homophobic, Satanist worshippers, sexist and we can be arguing but if you put on a song, I guarantee that people will stop and listen and that's what I love about music, it can bring people together. ~ Charles King

What's your name?" I ask.

I don't need to know. In fact, don't want to know. Giving him a name makes it sound like we're somehow on the same side, which we can never be. It's like acknowledging that we could become friends. But that's not possible. It's pointless to make friends with your executioner.

"Raffe."

I only asked him his name to distract him from thinking about having to use his feet instead of his wings. But now that I know his name, it feels right. "Rah-fie," I repeat slowly. "I like the sound of that."

His eyes soften as though he smiles even though his expression doesn't change from his stony look. For some reason, it makes my face heat up.

I clear my throat to break the tension. "Raffe sounds like Raw Feet. Coincidence?" That gets a smile out of him. When he smiles, he really does look like someone you'd want to get to know. Some otherworldly handsome guy a girl could dream about.

Only he's not a guy. And he's too otherworldly. Not to mention that this girl is beyond dreaming about anything other than food, shelter, and the safety of her family. ~ Susan Ee

I think if you talk to the experts in any field where you have to take on a unknown challenge, where you're going to be working on it for a long time you'd find that to work themselves up to their best performance and really throw themselves into it, you know, spend all these hours in there and ah, give it their ... give it their best that optimism plays a role. ~ Bill Gates

There is a sense of exhilaration that comes from facing head-on the hard truths and saying, "We will never give up. We will never capitulate. It might take a long time, but we will find a way to prevail." ~ James C. Collins

The rats at the door had gone away. I drank another bottle of wine. To think I was once rich. I once had money. I had everything but something.

I used to think that all people desire to be cared for; some are so used to it that they take it for granted, others, who never feel it, desire it so much that they constantly
need it. So much in fact, that when they don't receive it they have outbursts, and in the end they wind up pushing away those people who in the end would have cared for them
as their heart desired within its innermost depths. So they are always alone, always on the edge of society, within it, but at the same time, apart from it. They are like spectators
watching with envy the dance of mankind, wishing for that one feeling that only another's love can bring. A whisper
that speaks to one and only one and says:

"You truly are worth something."

They never know that feeling that shines on some.

So they cease to expect and begin looking elsewhere for that…wonderful whisper of…

War.

Love almost seems like war.

The ancient Greeks used to say, 'Love as if you will one day hate.'

I used to think that meant something very
pessimistic, that love was not real.

But really, man is just an animal anyway.

It's not just about that though, the Greeks meant more. It's like, 'Live as if you will one day die.' Do not take
for gran ~ Michael Szymczyk

I'll tell you an incident that happened right at the Brown Derby [restaurant] since I've been here in Honolulu," Armstrong tells a friend on one of the recordings. "You remember that white boy, he's a sailor or something, on one of these battleships, on Pearl Harbor, and he caught my show, and I come to find out he has damn near every record I made from childbirth. "He come up and shook my hand after the whole show was over . . . and he said, 'You know, I don't like Negroes.' "Right to my [expletive] face, that [expletive] told me. And so I said, 'Well, I admire your [expletive] sincerity.' "And he said, 'I don't like Negroes, but you're one [expletive] I'm crazy about. I've got every [expletive] record.' "I've said it for years. You take the majority of white people," continued Armstrong, "they always got one [expletive] at least that they're just crazy about, [expletive]. Every white man in the world got one [expletive] at least that they just love his dirty drawers. ~ Howard Reich

I learned an important lesson - that the value of the stock is not the same as the underlying value of the company. The stock goes up and down according to the whims and wiles of Wall Street. The value of the company depends on elements that contribute to the creation of real value - things like providing superior products at fair prices. You need to be learning and innovating, giving your people interesting, motivating work and compensating them fairly, creating value for your community, and doing it all in a way that yields a good profit. That's not what much of Wall Street values, but it's what creates long-term value for investors. ~ Jim Koch

One time, on a pleasure cruise, he saw a young couple, fiancés, sitting and looking at the water--the boy had his right arm around the girl's shoulder and held her right wrist tight and she had put her left hand on his right hand, and they sat like that, pressed close together. The little poet looked at them, it's so lovely to see a nice young couple like that. That these children are excited because they want more, that they are only getting each other worked up for what they can't do and don't dare to do, that they never know where to stop--no one ever notices that or thinks about that. It was very lovely, and maybe the truth was that they had just recently gotten engaged and were still satisfied with being madly in love with each other. ~ Nescio

I go on walks during lunch breaks and travel with a fold-up yoga mat. I also love reading by candlelight at night. ~ Rachel Boston

Yesterday you were riding on my shoulders," he murmured. "The house was full of noise. Clomping up and down the steps,doors slamming. Scattered toys. I don't know how many times I stepped on one of those damned little cars of Brady's/"
Turning back, he ran a hand over her hair. "I miss that.I miss all of you."
"Daddy." In one fluid movement she rose and slid her arms around him.
"It's the way it's supposed to work. Three of you off at college, Brendon moving around to get a handle on the busines of things.It's what he wants. And you, building your own.But..I miss the crowd of you."
"I promise to slam the door the very first chance I get."
"That might help."
"Sentimental softie.I love that about you."
"Lucky for me. ~ Nora Roberts

There comes a time when you ought to start doing what you want. Take a job that you love. You will jump out of bed in the morning. I think you are out of your mind if you keep taking jobs that you don't like because you think it will look good on your resume. Isn't that a little like saving up sex for your old age? ~ Warren Buffett

I would say the most satisfying thing actually is watching my three children each pick up on their own interests and work many more hours per week than most people that have jobs at trying to intelligently give away that money in fields that they particularly care about. ~ Warren Buffett

The tiny body was slippery, and he held her tightly, afraid she'd slither out of his grip. He rotated the infant face-up, holding her about ten inches away from his face. The top of her head had a slight cone shape. Her blue-tinged hands pinked. The baby's eyes were open, alert and seemingly amazed.
They connected with his.
A jolt of intense feeling, of recognition, flowed between them. As he gazed on the scrunched features of the infant, love surged through him. He'd never felt such a feeling before, and his chest ached with the joyful pressure. Caleb wanted to curl her to his chest and keep her safe. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling a scent that surprised him with its sweetness.
"My baby?" Maggie asked.
The infant broke eye contact with Caleb and turned her face toward the sound of her mother's voice. He blinked back moisture from his eyes and grinned. "You have a beautiful daughter. ~ Debra Holland

A dark shadow rose from the depth of the watercourse. Forced to crawl out of the oceans rolling waves, it struggled against the pull of the undertow. Rising, it moved further up the white sandy beach away from the cold water. The creature collapsed onto the cool sand as the crescent moon above shone on his sleek gray skin revealing two immense leather-like wings protruding from his back. Exhaustion clouded his mind.
The darkness of night was soothing, refreshing. Somehow he knew it would bring him strength and sustenance. The creature watched as a great rolling storm cloud sunk into the salty water before him and he tried to remember why he had come. ~ Alaina Stanford