Arthur Miller Quotes

If in my youth I had realized that the sustaining splendour of beauty of with which I was in love would one day flood back into my heart, there to ignite a flame that would torture me without end, how gladly would I have put out the light in my eyes.

I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.

When I left you, you were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve on your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me.

God, I loved him. I could insist I was okay with just being friends, that I'd find someone else and get over him, but I was fooling myself. There was no getting past this. I loved him, and fifty years from now we could be married to other people, never exchanged so much as a kiss, and I'd still looking into his eyes and know he was the one. He'd always be the one.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend But I always thought that I'd see you again.

Remembrance of our kiss brings not your lips nor mine to mind. The flesh can only envy consumption so divine.

For Beatrice- When we were together I felt breathless. Now you are.

I never felt so large and important as I did when being in love was everything. I saw you walking a foot above the earth and I remembered that was where I used to walk.

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.

The future for me is already a thing of the past - You were my first love and you will be my last

I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

I dust [your photo] carefully every morning, for to do so gives me the pleasant feeling that I'm caressing you as in the old days. I even touch your nose with mine to recapture the electric current that used to flush through my blood whenever I did so.

Which doesn't mean, of course, that I'd stopped loving her, that I'd forgotten her, or that her image had paled; on the contrary; in the form of a quiet nostalgia she remained constantly within me; I longed for her as one longs for something definitively lost.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.

And while he was doing those things, he thought about Allie and the love that was missing from both their lives.

Looks like my baby dont live here no more...thats alright, ive still got my guitar..I might as well go back over yonder, way back across the hills, if my baby dont love me no more....i know her...sister will

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

Drifting, On a sea of forgotten teardrops, On a lifeboat, Sailing for Your love

Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they could tell us such lovely things.

Allie would love what you've done," he remarked. "She was always a softie when it came to things like this." I folded my hands in my lap. "I wish she could be there this weekend." Noah glanced at the stack of letters. I knew he was imagining Allie, and for a brief moment, he looked strangely younger. "So do I," he said.

Why don't the Beatles get back together? Why don't nobody sing of romance?

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning, but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.