George Henry Boker Quotes

Of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.

Love, like reputation, once fled, never returns more.

You, yes, you, linger inside my heart The same you who stopped us before we could start.

When love congeals It soon reveals The faint aroma of performing seals, The double-crossing of a pair of heels. I wish I were in love again!

The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you’d ever left behind riding on your shoulders.

I've wrecked and ravaged half my life in the pursuit of women, and I suffer the pangs of about seventeen regrets -- the seventeen who got away.

Ghosts don't haunt us. That's not how it works. They're present among us because we won't let go of them.

Sometimes people graduate but they don't leave. They hang around for years, for no reason. I would think of ghosts like that, I decided.

You will go on and meet someone else and I'll just be a chapter in your tale, but for me, you were, you are and you always will be, the whole story.

Bitterly I wondered if Hardy was going to overshadow every relationship for the rest of my life, haunting me like a ghost. I didn't know how to let him go. I'd never even had him.

They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flames, but not the fire.

That first love. And the first one who breaks your heart. For me, they just happen to be the same person.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.

A lady who sets her heart upon a lad in uniform must prepare to change lovers pretty quickly, or her life will be but a sad one.

..he may love you, he may miss you, but ultimately he's just not that into you.

Not everybody believes in ghosts, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha? She had shaken her head slowly. Men and women who can't get over their past . . . That's what ghosts are.

If you really ever love someone, that doesn't go away, although you wish it would.

Dear Willem: I’ve been trying to forget about you and our day in Paris for nine months now, but as you can see, it’s not going all that well. I guess more than anything, I want to know, did you just leave? If you did, it’s okay. I mean it’s not, but if I can know the truth, I can get over it. And if you didn’t leave, I don’t know what to say. Except I’m sorry that I did. I don’t know what your response will be at getting this letter, like a ghost from your past. But no matter what happened, I hope you’re okay.

A woman often thinks she regrets the lover, when she only regrets the love.

It's hard to fall in love with somebody, and then break up and not have feelings for that same person.

The love of your life won't be the man you end up with, and you'll always compare the two.

At twenty-eight I'd had a handful of beaux, but had only been in love once, and that had been awful enough to make me doubt men and myself for a good long while.

Love with someone else, an actual person, was another matter. People got hurt doing that. People cried and wrapped their arms around themselves and rocked with loss. Loving words got turned to fierce, sharp, whip-cracks of anger that lefft permanent marks. At the least, it disappointed you. At most, it damaged you.

I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart.