Lovers Quarrels Quotes

Lady Talaith. Is that what you're wearing to dinner tonight?"
...
"And exactly when did I start owing you an explanation for
anything I do?"
"She's got you there, brother." The pair turned on him so fast,
Gwenvael stumbled back against the window, almost falling out of it.
"Don't bother. I'll accidentally hit myself in the head later. ~ G.A. Aiken

You should make someone a wonderful husband."
Even the tips of Jamie's ears were crimson now. But instead of retreating, he clenched his jaw and looked directly into her eyes.
"I suppose I would," he said. "Are you interested? ~ Bruce Coville

They'd dueled in the lamplight of her kitchen that night, savaging each other with accusations that could never be recalled. Now, he couldn't remember half of what they'd said, only the colors and lights and seething tide of fear all around them. He could still taste the acrid burn of unfairness. ~ Lauren Gilley

Primer of Love [Lesson 14]
I think the best thing I can do is to be a distraction.
A husband lives and breathes his work all day long.
If he comes home to more table thumping,
how can the poor man ever relax?
- Jackie Kennedy

Lesson 14) Learn to nip lover's quarrels in the bud
by distraction and humor -- without raising your voice.

This does not include mastering that passive aggressive ploy called the silent treatment which is much louder and destructive than outright screaming. Nipping techniques include distraction, humor, rough sex and counting backwards from MCLV in Latin.Once you've mastered this technique, you'll spend the night neatly tucked in each other's arms -- though her ass will be a little sore. No argument about that. ~ Beryl Dov

In love, it is better to know and be disappointed, than to not know and always wonder. ~ Michael S. McKinney

If I said that I couldn't live without Tom, it wouldn't be true. Of course I can live without him. It's just that it isn't going to be much fun. ~ Anna Maxted

It took me a while to realize that I was beginning to flirt with her. The food must have been poisoned. ~ Justin Villanueva

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

We progress to regress, you and I, always beginning where we began. Hurrying forward just enough, so that our "back-sliding" will not lead to 'our' end. Wondering when will Love grow tired of our loveless game, of our disregard for the feelings that true love claims, of you and I and the same-old-same. ~ Tonny K. Brown

Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. ~ William Shakespeare

I don't know why but they you said it I started believing it. ~ Salman Naveed

In spite of your lies and deceit, I admit I do love you darling, I really do. But I must leave you anyway, because there is nothing left within you that I can live with. ~ Tonny K. Brown

You know," he says, voice still low."I have had nothing but trouble since you walked into my life." "I'd walk straight back out of it if only you'd let me. ~ L. H. Cosway

You don't get to choose who turns you into a maniac.
They just do, and you're just fucked, and the rest is just damage control. ~ Julio Alexi Genao

The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever. ~ Carroll Bryant

I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately. ~ Coco J. Ginger

I accused Hartley of being a 'fantasist', or perhaps that was Titus's word, but what a 'fantasist' I have been myself. I was the dreamer, I the magician. How much, I see as I look back, I read into it all, reading my own dream text and not looking at the reality. Hartley had been right when she said of our love that it was not part of the real world. It had no place. ~ Iris Murdoch

We used to spend hours talking. We never got tired of talking, never raun out of topics - novels, the world, scenery, language. Our conversations were more open and intimate than ane lovers'. ~ Haruki Murakami

Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers' beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass. ~ Sylvia Plath

Sweetness, you're my high. ~ Mia Miller

How many times
Can you go back to the same spot
With love? I never hope to know.
We work patiently at our quarrels,
Starting them now like love,
Deliberately but with elaborate
Ease. When they catch
We marvel at the blaze,
Crowding in close.
'Inexhaustible!' we shout at one another,
Happy for the moment.
I never hope to know
How many times. ~ Harvey Shapiro

Singing is a lover's thing. ~ Saint Augustine

Whenever you are with me, life plays a beautiful symphony! ~ Avijeet Das

I loved him desperately, completely, and he wasn't threatening to consume me anymore. He already had. Everything that was me was him. My heart, mind and soul all were as much a part of him as they were me. ~ Cassandra Giovanni

You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip. ~ Jonathan Carroll

Lovers have a way of using this word, nothing, which implies exactly the opposite. ~ Honore De Balzac

In the Deep South, God is a cotton king,
Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth
with a little bit of talcum from Momma's compact.
He's the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything,
Caking the soles of bare feet
sifting through cracks in church pews,
and catching in your lover's eyelashes.

In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boy
who swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday.
He is the one who reaches up your skirt,
pulls out the prayers your were saving for someday
and lights them on fire with his tongue.
He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart,
call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings,
then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned.

In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old woman
with hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boils
and a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky.
She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent to
when sins need to be wished away like warts,
the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward souls
and coaxes a "Yes Ma'am" from the devil's own.

In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race child
with drops of destiny mingled into his blood
and the names of the saints tattooed along his spine.
He has his mother's bearing, one that wears suffering nobly,
and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers.
S.T. Gibson

This was the mark of deep infatuation, he thought: the desire to watch a woman talk just to see her lips move, to be around her. ~ Hugh Howey

Lovers, it is well known, carry the art of tautology to its utmost perfection, and even the most impatient of them can both bear to hear and repeat the same things times without number, till the sound becomes the echo to the sense or the nonsense previously uttered. ~ Susan Edmonstone Ferrier

This practice of arranging the marriage of a dead person was uncommon, usually held in order to placate a spirit. A deceased concubine who had produced a son might be officially married to elevate her status to a wife. Or two lovers who died tragically might be united after death. That much I knew. But to marry the living to the dead was a rare and, indeed, dreadful occurrence. ~ Yangsze Choo

You have the lovers,
they are nameless, their histories only for each other,
and you have the room, the bed, and the windows.
Pretend it is a ritual.
Unfurl the bed, bury the lovers, blacken the windows,
let them live in that house for a generation or two.
No one dares disturb them.
Visitors in the corridor tip-toe past the long closed door,
they listen for sounds, for a moan, for a song:
nothing is heard, not even breathing.
You know they are not dead,
you can feel the presence of their intense love.
Your children grow up, they leave you,
they have become soldiers and riders.
Your mate dies after a life of service.
Who knows you? Who remembers you?
But in your house a ritual is in progress:
It is not finished: it needs more people.
One day the door is opened to the lover's chamber.
The room has become a dense garden,
full of colours, smells, sounds you have never known.
The bed is smooth as a wafer of sunlight,
in the midst of the garden it stands alone.
In the bed the lovers, slowly and deliberately and silently,
perform the act of love.
Their eyes are closed,
as tightly as if heavy coins of flesh lay on them.
Their lips are bruised with new and old bruises.
Her hair and his beard are hopelessly tangled.
When he puts his mouth against her shoulder
she is uncertain whether her shoulder
has given or received the kiss.
~ Leonard Cohen

What if the point of life has nothing to do with the creation of an ever-expanding region of control? What if the point is not to keep at bay all those people, beings, objects and emotions that we so needlessly fear? What if the point instead is to let go of that control? What if the point of life, the primary reason for existence, is to lie naked with your lover in a shady grove of trees? What if the point is to taste each other's sweat and feel the delicate pressure of finger on chest, thigh on thigh, lip on cheek? What if the point is to stop, then, in your slow movements together, and listen to the birdsong, to watch the dragonflies hover, to look at your lover's face, then up at the undersides of leaves moving together in the breeze? What if the point is to invite these others into your movement, to bring trees, wind, grass, dragonflies into your family and in so doing abandon any attempt to control them? What if the point all along has been to get along, to relate, to experience things on their own terms? What if the point is to feel joy when joyous, love when loving, anger when angry, thoughtful when full of thought? What if the point from the beginning has been to simply be? ~ Derrick Jensen

The grand highway is crowded w/lovers & searchers & leavers so eager to please & forget. Wilderness. ~ Jim Morrison

Oh lovers! be careful in those dangerous first days! once you've brought breakfast in bed you'll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of lovelessness and betrayal. ~ Milan Kundera

I was surrounded by friends, my work was immense, and pleasures were abundant. Life, now, was unfolding before me, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil. Overall, I was happiest to be alone; for it was then I was most aware of what I possessed. Free to look out over the rooftops of the city. Happy to be alone in the company of friends, the company of lovers and strangers. Everything, I decided, in this life, was pure pleasure. ~ Roman Payne

The compulsion to find a lover and husband in a single person has doomed more women to misery than any other illusion. ~ Carolyn Heilbrun

On the doorstep Adele met Tony Limpsfield. She hurried him into her motor, and told the chauffeur not to drive on.

"News!" she said. "Lucia's going to have a lover."

"No!" said Tony in the Riseholme manner

"But I tell you she is. He's with her now."

"They won't want me then," said Tony. "And yet she asked me to come at half-past five."

"Nonsense, my dear. They will want you, both of them. . . . Oh Tony, don't you see? It's a stunt."

Tony assumed the rapt expression of Luciaphils receiving intelligence.

"Tell me all about it," he said.

"I'm sure I'm right," said she. "Her poppet came in just now, and she held his hand as women do, and made him draw his chair up to her, and said he scolded her. I'm not sure that he knows yet. But I saw that he guessed something was up. I wonder if he's clever enough to do it properly. . . . I wish she had chosen you, Tony, you'd have done it perfectly. They have got--don't you understand?--to have the appearance of being lovers, everyone must think they are lovers, while all the time there's nothing at all of any sort in it. It's a stunt: it's a play: it's a glory."

"But perhaps there is something in it," said Tony. "I really think I had better not go in."

"Tony, trust me. Lucia has no more idea of keeping a real lover than of keeping a chimpanzee. She's as chaste as snow, a kiss would scorch her. Besides, she hasn't time. She asked Ste ~ E.F. Benson

It's about passion, about allowing yourself to be overwhelmed, allowing a love to be feral without needing to domesticate it. Loving something or someone for what or who it is, not what you want it to be. That takes an enormous amount of strength and integrity. Which ties back in with the calling: allowing something to be scary, to be overwhelming; to devote yourself to it even if it requires great changes from you. It's something we have to live up to; it does not arrive neatly wrapped up in an understandable package. That would be easy. And the Lovers is always hard. RECOMMENDED ~ Jessa Crispin

You'll call me Damon. I see no need for dramatic titles. I, on the other hand will call you beautiful, lover, mine. I'll call you mine. (Damon to Serena) ~ Maya Banks

My entire view of the world has changed," he muttered as he went to the sink and began to scrub at the plates. "Sorcery, entities from the Outside, fish-men in my family tree, I can accept. Mr. Farr and Mr. Durfree as lovers crosses the line. ~ Jordan L. Hawk

Quiet Prayer:
As long as the sun shall rise goes the old lovers vow. But we are children of a scientific age & have no time for poetry. Still, I offer a quiet prayer of thanks for the sunlight each time I see your face. ~ Brian Andreas

Writing to her, I was no longer lonely ... I could tolerate anything as long as I had a notepad and a pen and could pour my heart out to her in these letters. ~ Portia De Rossi

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore. ~ Christina Rossetti

We are not a couple,' she said softly. 'Therefore I cannot cuckold you.'
'Shall I pull out the note and point to the bit where it says we're lovers?'
Her lashes lowered a touch. 'Are you jealous, darling?'
'Sleep with whomever you please, Diane. But if you attempt to make me look the fool, I won't be so cooperative.' Even as he spoke the words he realized he was lying - which wasn't that unusual, except for the fact that he'd evidently been attempting to lie to himself. That was a damned useless waste of effort. ~ Suzanne Enoch

The cherry trees are disconsolate lovers;
they can't hold their pink smiles
after the unkindness of that night.
The wind here is straight from Chicago -
it will snap you unless you bend.
The news from far-off money towns
is the clamor of falling towers.

Yet my woolly dog is happy chasing
a well-chewed stick and a wet spaniel,
a green-headed duck is talking quarks
with a brown-headed duck on the lake shore,
and my friend is reading poems of spring
in a language she knows only in dreams.
The wild cherries will bloom again. ~ Robert Moss

when whispered
what an exquisite
song, it makes-
your name. ~ Sanober Khan

Had the love been perennial, there won't have been murders of wives by husbands and murders of husbands by wives, who were lovers at a point of time. ~ Girdhar Joshi

When Jesus says, 'Take, eat. This is my body that was broken for you,' He says, I want my body in you. (Pause ... shouts and claps) I want my blood in you. And every time you celebrate this rite, it is a reminder that you belong to me, and I belong to you. And he said, 'I will drink no more wine until I drink it new with you and the kingdom of God. Communion is the most romantic ordinance. Eh, Eh, Eh. (He laughs. Pause ... the audience shouts and claps.) It is the most romantic ordinance between two lovers. ~ T.D. Jakes

The Christian community demonstrates the effectiveness of the gospel. We are the living proof that the gospel is not an empty word but a powerful word that takes men and women who are lovers of self and transforms them by grace through the Spirit into people who love God and others. We are the living proof that the death of Jesus was not just a vain expression of God's love but an effective death that achieved the salvation of a people who now love one another sincerely from a pure ~ Tim Chester

Real love should draw no blood from the loved and buckets from the lover. ~ Emily Maguire

When the two people who thus discover that they are on the same secret road are of different sexes, the friendship which arises between them will very easily pass – may pass in the first half hour – into erotic love. Indeed, unless they are physically repulsive to each other or unless one or both already loves elsewhere, it is almost certain to do so sooner or later. And conversely, erotic love may lead to Friendship between the lovers. But this, so far from obliterating the distinction between the two loves, puts it in a clearer light. If one who was first, in the deep and full sense, your Friend, is then gradually or suddenly revealed as also your lover you will certainly not want to share the Beloved's erotic love with any third. But you will have no jealousy at all about sharing the Friendship. Nothing so enriches an erotic love as the discovery that the Beloved can deeply, truly and spontaneously enter into Friendship with the Friends you already had; to feel that not only are we two united by erotic love but we three or four or five are all travelers on the same quest, have all a common vision. ~ C.S. Lewis

Why cannot you be loud in saying 'I love you' ?", she asked.

Me:- It is just because I have got a great depth inside me that will take some time to reach the horizon. But believe me, it would be the loudest of all, anyone has ever heard. ~ Nishikant

Devotion means for the total; it is never for Rama, never for Krishna. Of course, Rama and Krishna are implied in the total, but it is never for a chosen one. Love is always for the chosen one, devotion is for the whole. So you cannot be a devotee of Rama. If you are for Rama, you are only a lover; and when you are a lover, then competition is bound to be there. Then Krishna will be a competitor, and Christ will be a competitor, and the same jealousies, the same conflicts, and all the same nonsense will follow. It has followed. ~ Rajneesh

The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creation. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian. ~ Brennan Manning

When I think of [my relationship with Gable], considering the way it started, it was curious. We became devoted to each other. We weren't lovers-he was in love with Carole Lombard ... we eventually became more like siblings. Nobody believes that and you can understand why ... but our relationship was unique. Oh he sometimes gave me the macho routine when people were watching but he changed when we were alone. ~ Myrna Loy

She dreamed of Venice. However, it wasn't a city alive with stars dripping like liquid gold into canals, or Bougainvillea spilling from flowerpots like overfilled glasses of wine. In this dream, Venice was without color. Where pastel palazzi once lined emerald lagoons, now, gray, shadowy mounds of rubble paralleled murky canals. Lovers could no longer share a kiss under the Bridge of Sighs; it had been the target of an obsessive Allied bomb in search of German troops. The only sign of life was in Piazza San Marco, where the infamous pigeons continued to feed. However, these pigeons fed not on seeds handed out by children, but on corpses rotting under the elongated shadow of the Campanile. ~ Pamela Allegretto

They listened to the last enchantments of the Middle Ages, heard the horns of Elfland, and made designs on the culture that our own age is only beginning fully to appreciate. They were philologists and philomyths: lovers of logos (the ordering power of words) and mythos (the regenerative power of story), with a nostalgia for things medieval and archaic and a distrust of technological innovation that never decayed into the merely antiquarian. Out of the texts they studied and the tales they read, they forged new ways to convey old themes - sin and salvation, despair and hope, friendship and loss, fate and free will - in a time of war, environmental degradation, and social change. ~ Philip Zaleski

The longer we spent together, the more she discovered about me. The things I didn't want her to know. The darkness and the anger and the pain. ~ Ashleigh Z.

Once every hundred years, two souls are brought together through the veil of time. They are deemed the chosen ones by the Fae. Through their acts of kindness, generosity, and love to others, they often neglect to find their one true love. Their devotion to aiding others blinds them to their own happiness, leaving them alone.
Time is fleeting and only the strongest and purest of heart will be able to capture the spark of love. If the ember ceases to grow, then on the stroke of midnight on the Winter Solstice the two lovers will be returned to their own time. The doors of past and present to be closed forever.
In this year, 2016, the Fae have chosen Cormac Blaine Murray and Eve Catherine Brannigan to receive this special blessing – a chance of love – everlasting.
When the light of true love whispers in their hearts, Cormac and Eve must trust and believe in the magic that brought them together before the sands of time vanish into the mists of the Highlands. ~ Mary Morgan

Time cannot children,poets,lovers tell-
measure imagine,mystery,a kiss
-not though mankind would rather know than feel ~ E. E. Cummings

The Museum

Two lovers went to the museum and
wandered the
rooms. He saw a painting and stood in front
of it
for too long. It was a few minutes before she
realized he had gotten stuck. He was stuck
looking
at a painting. She stood next to him, looking
at his
face and then the face in the painting. What
do you
see? she asked. I don't know, he said. He didn't know. She was disappointed, then bored. He
was
looking at a face and she was looking at her watch.
This is where everything changed. There was
now
a distance between them. He was looking at
a face
but it might as well have been a cabbage or a sugar beet. Perhaps it was something about
yellow
near pink. He didn't know how to say it.
Years later
he still didn't know how to say it, and she was gone. ~ Richard Siken

But at that moment she had known, with a certainty she would never feel about anything else in her life, that it was right, that she wanted this man in her life. Something inside her said, He understands. What it's like to be different. ~ Celeste Ng

The coquette has companions, indeed, but no lovers,
for love is respectful and timorous; and where among her followers will she find a husband? ~ Samuel Johnson

What I tell young couples that are getting married is: you're going to have quarrels, and on some things, you're just going to have to agree to disagree. And when you go to bed at night, kiss each other and tell each other that you love each other. Don't go to bed mad. Life is too short. Keep it simple. ~ Si Robertson