Not Being Loved Enough Quotes

I may not give you as much love as you want, but I will give you as much as I have. ~ Debasish Mridha

To live is to prepare for goodbye
For loneliness is a friend
who will not betray.
Shiver not in the pouring love,
instead buy an umbrella
Believe not in happiness,
even in the passions of love…
Confess not your love,
even if you would die for it.
For love is like a season
It comes and goes to decorate life's boredom
The moment you call it Love,
it melts away, an ice sculpture…
Goodbye, Someday.
Happiness lasts not forever
As Despair lasts not forever.
Some days, there is Goodbye
some days, there is Hello.
At death,
some look back on being loved
While some look back on having loved…
I'll definitely look back on having loved… ~ Hitonari Tsuji

Being a kid myself, I loved playing and I loved playing with words, and making up things and riddles and songs and not afraid of being silly in public. ~ Malachy McCourt

Happiness, she would explain, was when a person felt good, light, creative, content, loving and loved, and free. An unhappy person felt as if there were barriers crushing her desires and the talents she had inside. A happy woman was one who could exercise all kinds of rights, from the right to move to the right to create, compete, and challenge, and at the same time could be loved for doing so. Part of happiness was to be loved by a man who enjoyed your strength and was proud of your talents. Happiness was also about the right to privacy, the right to retreat from the company of others and plunge into contemplative solitude. Or sit by yourself doing nothing for a whole day, and not give excuses or feel guilty about it either. Happiness was to be with loved ones, and yet still feel that you existed as a separate being, that ou were not just there to make them happy. Happiness was when there was a balance between what you gave and what you took. ~ Fatema Mernissi

What did she love Shelley for? His reckless spontaneity
like this. His helpless generous nature
like this. His treatment of her as a reasonable human being and not a trembling little rose
and so on. If she loved him for these things, could she hate him for them? Could she? ~ Jude Morgan

To feel safe is to stop living in my head and sink down into my heart and feel liked and accepted ... not having to hide anymore and distract myself with books, television, movies, ice cream, shallow conversation ... staying in the present moment and not escaping into the past or projecting into the future, alert and attentive to the now ... feeling relaxed and not nervous or jittery ... no need to impress or dazzle others or draw attention to myself. ... Unself-conscious, a new way of being with myself, a new way of being in the world ... calm, unafraid, no anxiety about what's going to happen next ... loved and valued ... just being together as an end in itself. ~ Brennan Manning

I got to draw monsters, robots and write funny stories. I loved doing that stuff and working with the actors. But it got to be less and less that stuff and more about trying to be everywhere and not being able to do one thing very enjoyably. ~ Jhonen Vasquez

take
sometimes, being a little selfish is the biggest act of self-love we can give ourselves. expanse you are not just a person, and you don't simply exist. you are a culmination of everything you've ever seen and heard, loved and hated, feared and not. you are the sum of every action and reaction, failure and success, mistake and apology, every interaction with another, like and unlike yourself. we are all complex beings with our own stories and our own perspectives. and we all deserve to love and be loved just the same. ~ Cyrus Parker

Sanity in a writer is merely this: However stupid he may be in his private life, he never cheats in his writing. He never forgets that his audience is, at least ideally, as noble, generous, and tolerant as he is himself (or more so), and never forgets that he is writing about people, so that to turn characters to cartoons, or treat his characters as innately inferior to himself, to forget their reasons for being as they are, to treat them as brutes, is bad art. Sanity in a writer also involves taste . . . To write with taste, in the highest sense, is to write with the assumption that one out of a hundred people who read one's work may be dying, or have loved someone dying; to write so that no one commits suicide, no one despairs; to write, as Shakespeare wrote, so that people understand, sympathize, see the universality of pain, and feel strengthened, if not directly encouraged to live on . . . If there is good to be said, the writer should remember to say it. If there is bad to be said, he should say it in a way that reflects the truth that, though we see the evil, we choose to continue among the living. ~ John Gardner

My high school musical did not offer a shirtless Zac Efron but it did provide me with many lessons. I learned that I loved being in a theatre, attending rehearsals, and building sets. I loved listening to the director and groaning about rehearsing choreography ~ Amy Poehler

THE DEMAND TO be safe in relationship inevitably breeds sorrow and fear. This seeking for security is inviting insecurity. Have you ever found security in any of your relationships? Have you? Most of us want the security of loving and being loved, but is there love when each one of us is seeking his own security, his own particular path? We are not loved because we don't know how to love. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Scuffing her bare feet into slippers, she shrugged into a silk robe, then hesitated, looking down at Perrin. He would be able to see her clearly, if he woke, but to her, he was just a shadowed mound. She wished her mother were there, now, to advise her. She loved Perrin with every fiber of her being, and he confused every fiber. Actually understanding men was impossible, of course, but he was so unlike anyone she had grown up with. He never swaggered, and instead of laughing at himself, he was... modest. She had not believed a man could be modest! He insisted that only chance had made him a leader, claimed he did not know how to lead, when men who met him were ready to follow after an hour. He dismissed his own thinking as slow, when those slow, considering thoughts saw so deeply that she had to dance a merry jig to keep any secrets at all. He was a wonderful man, her curly-haired wolf. So strong. And so gentle. ~ Robert Jordan

It is difficult to persuade me that the story of the Prodigal Son is not the legend of one who didn't want to be loved. When he was a child everyone in the house loved him. He grew up knowing nothing different and, being a child, he grew accustomed to their tenderness of heart. But once he became a youth he wanted to cast all that aside. He wouldn't have been able to say it, but even when he spent the whole day wandering around outdoors he didn't want the dogs with him ever again because they loved him as well; because looking in their eyes he could read watchfulness, sympathy, expectation, and concern; because when they were with him there was nothing he could do that didn't either delight them or hurt their feelings. But what he was aiming for at the time was that indifference of heart which early in the morning out in the fields sometimes seized him inwardly and with such purity that he would start to run in order to leave himself no time or breath to be more than a weightless moment in the morning's returning consciousness. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

For a girl, the fear of not being pretty is the fear of not being a valuable object, which is the fear of not being loved. It is a conflation that is instilled so early on and runs so deep that, even when you know it's a fear perpetrated by patriarchy, goaded by fashion magazines, and used to manipulate you into buying stuff, you still can't stop the way it affects you. Being a woke feminist doesn't mean you've overcome it, it just means you've learned to live with your perpetual self-loathing and your anger around it, too. ~ Ani DiFranco

Being loved and admired by a man like that - and she knew that this man, this mechanic, this fixer of machines with their broken hearts, did indeed love and admire her - was like walking in the sunshine; it gave the same feeling of warmth and pleasure to bask in the love of one who has promised it, publicly at a wedding ceremony, and who is constant in his promise that such love will be given for the rest of his days. What more could any woman ask? None of us, she thought, not one single one of us, could ask for anything more than that. ~ Alexander McCall Smith

He knew what his father thought: that immigration, so often presented as a heroic act, could just as easily be the opposite; that it was cowardice that led many to America; fear marked the journey, not bravery; a cockroachy desire to scuttle to where you never saw poverty, not really, never had to suffer a tug to your conscience; where you never heard the demands of servants, beggars, bankrupt relatives, and where your generosity would never be openly claimed; where by merely looking after your wife-child-dog-yard you could feel virtuous. Experience the relief of being an unknown transplant to the locals and hide the perspective granted by journey. Ohio was the first place he loved, for there at last he had been able to acquire poise
~ Kiran Desai

How about you get on my back? So in a way you're not being carried – you're riding me." I paused and then winked.
Kat stared.
"What?" I laughed, and her eyes immediately narrowed.
"You should see yourself right now. Like a kitten – that's what I keep telling you. Your hackles are raised."
Her eyes rolled as she shuffled behind me. "You should conserve your energy and stop talking."
"Ouch."
"You'll get over it." She placed her hands on my shoulders. "Besides, you could be knocked down a peg or two."
...
"Baby, I'm so far up the ladder there aren't any pegs under me to be knocked down."
"Wow", she said. "That's a new one."
"You loved it." .. "Hold on, Kitten. I'm going to start to glow just a little, and we're going to go fast."
"I like when you glow. It's like having my own personal flashlight."
I grinned. "Glad I can be of assistance."
She patted my chest. "Giddy up. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

No one, not even my father, not even my children, has ever loved me the way that man loved me, that's for sure. There's something satisfying in being loved that hard, maybe more than loving that hard yourself. ~ Anna Quindlen

This is the creature there has never been.
They never knew it, and yet, none the less,
they loved the way it moved, its suppleness,
its neck, its very gaze, mild and serene.
Not there, because they loved it, it behaved
as though it were. They always left some space.
And in that clear unpeopled space they saved
it lightly reared its head, with scarce a trace
of not being there. They fed it, not with corn,
but only with the possibility
of being. And that was able to confer
such strength, its brow put forth a horn. One horn.
Whitely it stole up to a maid - to be
within the silver mirror and in her. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

He felt his heart, which no longer beat, contract, and he wondered if there was anything in the world as painful as not being able to protect the people you loved. ~ Cassandra Clare

This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story.
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used:
Here comes the lady; let her witness it. ~ William Shakespeare

For my entire life, I had oscillated between fear at my worst moments and a sense of safety and stability at my best. I was either being chased by the bad terminator or protected by the good one. But I had never felt empowered - never believed that I had the ability and the responsibility to care for those I loved. Mamaw could preach about responsibility and hard work, about making something of myself and not making excuses. No pep talk or speech could show me how it felt to transition from seeking shelter to providing it. I had to learn that for myself, and once I did, there was no going back. Mamaw's ~ J.D. Vance

I think for me I've always loved being in the water and I love training and I love being at the pool so you know it's not a chore for me to go training, but come race day I would never just train to train - I train to race. ~ Stephanie Rice

In the process of terrorizing an article on spring training, Butch glanced over at Marissa again, and V
knew the two were going to take off soon - but not because they were finished with their coffee.
Funny, he knew what was going to happen from extrapolation, not second sight or because he could read their minds: Butch was letting off the bonding scent, and Marissa loved being with her male ~ J.R. Ward

He loved the interminable winter nights, when the dissatisfied wind mewed through the keyhole, and gusts of acrid smoke were driven down through the chimney; the imperfect silence when you awoke, as of a conversation hastily lulled, objects being hastily replaced. 'Blow, blow thou winter wind, thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.' Why was it that he felt so perfectly attuned to winter, to its fatalistic expectation of the worst, then, when the worst came, its rustic heroisms and shouldering of burdens, improvised ingeniousness, constructive despair? ~ Violet Trefusis

Grief is not a one-time thing for people with chronic health problems. Just like people grieving the loss of a loved one find the sadness washes over them at holidays or family events or even unexpected everyday moments, we who are grieving the loss of ourselves, or our former lives, will find the feelings come at random - when someone mentions an activity we used to love, or even something as simple as spilling a glass of milk, or not being able to find our keys. It doesn't mean you're a failure. It means you're human. And it's okay. Then ~ Kimberly Rae

Sobriety had happened at a strange time in my sex life, and maybe I wouldn't have held onto it had it not been for both of the men involved in the transition. But sobriety made me realize, in lonely moments and long introspective jags, that while sex wasn't the only thing that I was good at, it was still something I enjoyed. The difference was choosing the people I invited to the playground, so to speak. If Eren had been any less fired up than he was, pushing firmly and slowly into me, watching my face for silent cues while I pushed my head back into the bed, stretching my neck and growling, reacquainting myself with the feeling of being filled, it wouldn't have been right.

But it was right. I'd chosen well. I almost laughed when he was completely inside of me and I got swept up in the truth of the matter, the reasonably overwhelming knowledge that yeah, this was something I might not fuck up. And god, I loved sex. God, I loved not having to feel like I was hiding inside of its fortress. ~ Vee Hoffman

I see no reason for denying so fundamental an urge, ruin or no. It is more important to live the life one wishes to live, and to go down with it if necessary, quite contentedly, than to live more profitably but less happily. Yet to achieve content under sometimes adverse circumstances, requires first an adjustment within oneself, and this I had already made, and after that, a recognition that one is not unique in being obliged to toil and struggle and suffer. This is the simplest of all facts and the most difficult for the individual ego to accept. As I look back on those first difficult times at the Creek, when it seemed as though the actual labor was more than I could bear, and the making of a living on the grove impossible, it was old black Martha who drew aside a curtain and led me in to the company of all those who had loved the Creek and been tormented by it. ~ Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

For in her stead. It's not the same, of course. But it's better to love others than to sit miserable without loving or being loved in return. ~ Rose Gordon

I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

You're holding a challenge in a fencing club?"

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?" He pulled on his black pants and the heavy silk green shirt I loved for him to wear because the material seemed to caress hisskin.

No, it's just kind of an incongruous place to hold something so serious as a challenge, isn't it?"

He finished with his shoes, grabbed another towel, and shook it out for me. I made sure Pal still had his back to me, hurrying out of the pool to clasp the towel around me.

"It is no less incongruous than holding a challenge in a bar."

I smiled. "Yes, but my challenge to you wasn't serious. I hope you'll notice that I'm not freaking out about this at all. I haven't even asked you how good you are with asword."

"I noticed." His mouth burned on mine for a moment, his fire being shared between us as his tongue twined around mine in a fiery - albeit brief - dance. "You are learning to have faith in me as is proper between a mateand her wyvern."

"No, I am learning to ask around. Pal told me earlier today that Dmitri had picked swords and that you were pleased because you were some sort of master swordsman a few centuries ago. You'd better not have forgotten anything."

Pal peeked at me out of the corner of his eye, his grin not too obvious. Drake pinched my bare behind as punishment for my saucy tone. "I never forget. Istvan will drive you when you are ready. The challenge is not f ~ Katie MacAlister

The most important part of seeing Darla every night wasn't the fooling around. It was the few minutes we talked while holding each other, the feeling of security I got with her, the feeling of being understood and loved. Before the eruption, I wouldn't have believed that I could cuddle up every night with the girl who starred in my dreams and not be totally preoccupied with sex. But the trek across Iowa had changed something. I wanted, needed to see her so badly that it woke me up at night. But making out was incidental to my need – nice when it happened, but secondary to the simple pleasure of sleeping beside her. ~ Mike Mullin

Charlie Kaufman: There was this time in high school. I was watching you out the library window. You were talking to Sarah Marsh.
Donald Kaufman: Oh, God. I was so in love with her.
Charlie Kaufman: I know. And you were flirting with her. And she was being really sweet to you.
Donald Kaufman: I remember that.
Charlie Kaufman: Then, when you walked away, she started making fun of you with Kim Canetti. And it was like they were laughing at *me*. You didn't know at all. You seemed so happy.
Donald Kaufman: I knew. I heard them.
Charlie Kaufman: How come you looked so happy?
Donald Kaufman: I loved Sarah, Charles. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Sarah didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want.
Charlie Kaufman: But she thought you were pathetic.
Donald Kaufman: That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That's what I decided a long time ago.
Donald Kaufman: What's up?
Charlie Kaufman: Thank you.
Donald Kaufman: For what? ~ Charlie Kaufman

Most of all I loved the serenity that came from being alone in a world of books at the same time not being alone because the world was around me, some if it real, the vast majority of it worlds all their own, contained on pages bound to a cover. ~ Kristen Ashley

For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her - since that is one of our characteristics - so as to start loving another. ~ Marcel Proust

I love her with all my soul. Why, she is a child! She's a child now - a real child. Oh! you know nothing about it at all, I see."

"And are you assured, at the same time, that you love Aglaya too?"

"Yes - yes - oh; yes!"

"How so? Do you want to make out that you love them BOTH?"

"Yes - yes - both! I do!"

"Excuse me, prince, but think what you are saying! Recollect yourself!"

"Without Aglaya - I - I MUST see Aglaya! - I shall die in my sleep very soon - I thought I was dying in my sleep last night. Oh! if Aglaya only knew all - I mean really, REALLY all! Because she must know ALL - that's the first condition towards understanding. Why cannot we ever know all about another, especially when that other has been guilty? But I don't know what I'm talking about - I'm so confused. You pained me so dreadfully. Surely - surely Aglaya has not the same expression now as she had at the moment when she ran away? Oh, yes! I am guilty and I know it - I know it! Probably I am in fault all round - I don't quite know how - but I am in fault, no doubt. There is something else, but I cannot explain it to you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. I have no words; but Aglaya will understand. I have always believed Aglaya will understand - I am assured she will."

"No, prince, she will not. Aglaya loved like a woman, like a human being, not like an abstract spirit. Do you know what, my poor prince? The most p ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The real issue in the Christian community was that it was conditional. You were loved, but if you had questions, questions about whether the Bible was true or whether America was a good country or whether last week's sermon was good, you were not so loved. You were loved in word, but there was, without question, a social commodity that was being withheld from you until you shaped up. By toeing the party line you earned social dollars; by being yourself you did not. If you wanted to be valued, you became a clone. These are broad generalizations, and they are unfair, but this is what I was thinking at the time. ~ Donald Miller

Within her eyes was the gratitude of the thousands of souls that knew him. He saw them. He saw the faces of the fae, the faces of the Wood. He heard their voices as they whispered in his ear of their thanks for what he had endured, for the sacrifices he had made. He felt in his being their emotions, those feelings that words could not describe. They were here because he loved without thinking. They were here because he was loved. Truly loved. True love. ~ Kate Danley

From the point of view of the Christian faith, man comes in the profoundest sense to himself not through what he does but through what he accepts. He must wait for the gift of love, and love can only be received as a gift ... One must wait for it, let it be given to one. And one cannot become wholly man in any other way than by being loved, by letting oneself be loved ... If he declines to let himself be presented with the gift, then he destroys himself. ~ Pope Benedict XVI

Death's just something that inspires me, not something that pulls me down. I used to get called morbid at school. I have always loved horror films; I like being frightened. ~ Damien Hirst

Valerie, I love you so much. I wanted you to have a normal
childhood - so I lived a double life. Hiding in plain
sight. Living modestly." He began to pace the room, the
words tumbling out of him. "I tried to keep it up, but I've
been so disrespected. Even by my own wife. I couldn't do it
anymore. I've settled for far less than I deserved, and I just
couldn't do it anymore. I decided it was time to leave for
the city....For richer hunting grounds." Cesaire was snarling
now, a scary, powerful force. Valerie felt herself being
drawn to it....
She took a deep, steadying breath. It was not just fear
that she felt. What she felt was so much more complex
than that, something she couldn't understand. "Then why
didn't you just go?"
"Because I loved you girls, and I wanted you to come
with me. To share the wealth."
"But you had to wait until the blood moon. ~ Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

Most of the time, we're loved for what we can do rather than for who we are. It's not such a bad thing, being loved for what you can do.'
'But the other is better.'
'Better. I hate to say better, but it is. If someone loves you for what you can do then it's flattering, but why do you love them? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them. ~ Ann Patchett

Piney woke up wearing a big grin on his face. He couldn't remember when he'd slept so well. He pulled the pillow next to him up over his face. He could smell her hair on it.
"Jesse," he murmured to himself. He liked her. He really liked her. And he loved, loved, loved doing her.
Being inside her. She was so hot. She was so tight. She was ...
Piney stopped himself in midthought and rolled out of bed. His mind was headed where his body could not go. ~ Pamela Morsi

We allow folks to divide us. I don't like this Republican/Democrat, left/right, radical/not radical division that is created by folks, particularly and unfortunately in the media. What happened to being a self-reliant, God-fearing American, that loved freedom and the constitution? That's the way I want to be labeled. ~ Matt Shea

You loved people and you came to depend on their being there. but people died or changed or went away and it hurt too much. The only way to avoid that poin was not to love anyone, and not to let anyone get too close or too important. The secret of not being hurt like this again, I decided, was never depending on anyone, never needing, never loving.
It is the last dream of children, to be forever untouched. ~ Audre Lorde

You swore you loved me, and laughed and warned me that you would not love me forever.
I did not hear you. You were speaking in a language I did not understand. Never, never, I can conceive of a love which is able to foresee its own termination. Love is its own eternity. Love is in every moment of its being: all time. It is the only glimpse we are permitted of what eternity is. So I did not hear you. The words were nonsense. ~ Thornton Wilder

The first time I opened one I felt indecent. I love the feel of a book. I love the touch and smell and sound of the pages. I love the handling. A book is a sensual thing. You sit curled in a chair with it or like me you take it to bed and it's, well, enveloping. Weird I am. I know. What the Hell? as Bobby Bowe says to everything. You either get it or you don't. When my father first took me to Ennis Library I went down among the shelves and felt company, not only the company of the writers, but the readers too, because they had lifted and opened and read these books. The books were worn in a way they can only get worn by hands and eyes and minds; these were the literal original Facebooks, the books where faces had been, and I just loved it, the whole strange sense of being aboard a readership. ~ Niall Williams

I'm not normal. I see people hurt in love and I want to hug them and tell them it's going to be okay. That they need to keep that broken heart open. Because there's nothing else really that matters beyond loving and being loved. ~ Nitya Prakash

And I knew too well the loneliness that clamps around one's heart when loved ones have passed on before. To have that companionship, the comfort of someone being at home for you for years, and then suddenly not to have it anymore - well, every day can seem darker after that, and the vise clutches tighter in your chest every night you spend in a lonely bed. Unless you find someone to spend some time with (and that time is sunlight, golden minutes when you forget you're alone), that vise will eventually crush your heart. ~ Kevin Hearne