Paulo Coelho Quotes

At some point, we have each said through our tears, “I’m suffering for a love that’s not worth it.” We suffer because we feel we are giving more than we receive. We suffer because our love is going unrecognized. We suffer because we are unable to impose our own rules. But ultimately there is no good reason for our suffering, for in every love lies the seed of our growth.

Love is suffering. One side always loves more.

Romantic love is painful.

Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.

To fall in love is awfully simple, but to fall out of love is simply awful.

Love and despair go hand in hand.

If you're really looking to hurt somebody's feelings, just break up with them.

Obviously, I've been heartbroken. We all know what that feels like.

If someone close to me forgets my birthday, I am heartbroken.

I have experienced heartbreak but not in a classical sense.

When a person you love moves by you with flat eyes that will not see you, it is a shock to believe it.

It's the worst thing to fall in love with someone who will never stop disappointing you.

Love is an incurable disease. In love, there is permanent suffering. Those who love and those who are happy are not the same.

Every time you see him, you only make yourself vulnerable to further heartache. Do you really need further proof that he's getting on with his life without you?

Morgan sighed. "I," she announced, "am so pathetic." "You are not," I said. "I am." She went over and straightened the cling wrap, corner to corner. "Do you know how many times I've brought in devilled eggs? This is, like, the only time I haven't been sobbing and that's only 'cause I cried all night. And Norman," she said, her voice rising to a wail, "sweet Norman, always just acts so surprised to see the eggs, and pleased, and he never, once, has ever acted like he knew what they meant."

Choking with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference of nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of beauty, I remember sitting on the end of my bed, collecting these pills and capsules together and wondering why, why when I felt I had so much to offer, so much love, such outpourings of love and energy to spend on the world, I was incapable of being offered love, giving it or summoning the energy with which I knew I could transform myself and everything around me.

love is so very subtle an essence, such an indefinable metaphysical marvel, that its due force, though very cruelly felt by the sufferer himself, is never clearly understood by those who look on at its torments and wonder why he takes the common fever so badly.

Pain is unjust, and all the arguments That cannot soothe it only rouse suspicion.

It's a cold bowl of chili when love lets you down.

A sob racks my body again, and he wraps his arms around me so tightly I find it difficult to breathe, but it doesn't matter. My dignified weeping gives way to full-on ugliness, my mouth open and my face contorted and sounds like a dying animal coming from my throat. If this continues I will break apart, and maybe that would be better, maybe it would be better to shatter and bear nothing.

This was my one brush with love. Was it love? It felt awful enough. I spent another two years crawling around in the skin of it, smoking too much and growing too thin and having stray thoughts of jumping from my balcony like a tortured heroine in a Russian novel.

When a person that one loves is in the world and alive and well, and pleased to be in the world, then to miss them is only a new flavor, a salt sharpness in experience. It is when the beloved is unhappy or maimed or troubled that one misses with pain.

How can I be reasonable? To me our love was everything and you were my whole life. It is not very pleasant to realize that to you it was only an episode.

Perhaps a great love is never returned.

I'm just not prepared to be treated like this anymore.' 'Treated like what?' She sighed, and it was a moment before she spoke. 'Like you always want to be somewhere else, with someone else.