My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.
Once, when I was young and true. Someone left me sad - Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse.
Love isn't soft, like the poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.
I walk out of the room, lurching under the weight of the lesson I've learned less than one hour into wifehood: How quickly the sweetest love turns rancid when it isn't returned. When the one you love loves someone else.
What was it in the human heart that made you despise a man because he loved you?
You've got to love someone enough to hate them.
We must love, as looking one day to hate.
Bitter love, a violet with it's crown of thorns in a thicet of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?
If you love someone set them free. If they come back, set them on fire.
A promise, a bond, a joy, a love for the ages, for the history books.…But what was love but pain?
It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new.
Love endeth like the chianti flask, its drops are bitter.
Love unrequited is violent. He loves you so much that he's turned it into hate.
He hadn't loved me well in the end, but he'd loved me well when it mattered.
I know you left me once, but I came right back to find you. Even though I like being in your past, you got a bright future behind you.
I love America. You always hurt the one you love.
God designs people's emotions so you fall in love with people who, in return, wouldn't even use your hollowed-out skull for a spittoon.
Then grew a wrinkle on fair Venus' brow, The amber sweet of love is turn'd to gall! Gloomy was Heaven; bright Phoebus did avow He would be coy, and would not love at all; Swearing no greater mischief could be wrought, Than love united to a jealous thought.
I have loved and bitterness left me for that hour. But there are times when love itself is bitter.
No one among us suffers the radical appreciation for coffee that I do. It calls to me, but I have learned not to listen.
Did I hate him, then? Indeed, I believe so. A love like that can grow to be nine-tenths hatred and still call itself love.
If I can't have love, if I can't find peace, / Give me a bitter glory.
Love isn't always pretty, it's not perfect and it's messy and it hurts and sometimes as much as you want to say you love someone, you have to say I wish I didn't love you.
Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.
