love's complexities Quotes

When love ceases to be tragic it is something else and the individual again throws himself in search of tragedy.

How could two people who were so in love not end up happily ever after? It had to work. Didn’t it?

Sometimes love is calm and easy and sometimes it's just plain dirty.

Love's pure free joy when it works, but when it goes bad you pay for the good hours at loan-shark prices.

I cannot help feeling there is something essentially wrong about love. Friends may quarrel or drift apart, close relations too, but there is not this pang, this pathos, this fatality which clings to love. Friendship never has that doomed look. Why, what is the matter? I have not stopped loving you, but because I cannot go on kissing your dim dear face, we must part, we must part.

Love, according to our contemporary poets, is a privilege which two beings confer upon one another, whereby they may mutually cause one another much sorrow over absolutely nothing.

Today I believe in the possibility of love; that is why I endeavor to trace its imperfections, its perversions.

...if the beginnings of love and amorous politics are equally rosy, then the ends may be equally bloody.

And by golly, love sure was a battlefield. Benatar was right about that.

I don't particularly believe all love is doomed. But I guess, one is usually kinda suffering from some aborted love affair or association, rather than being at the peak of one. I think it's fairly obvious that a lot more suffering goes on in the name of love than the little happiness you can squeeze out of it.

Love cannot exist in peace, it will always come accompanied by agonies, ecstasies, intense joys and profound sadnesses.

The desire to force love to live only in its most positive form is what causes love ultimately to fall over dead.

Love is rarely flawless,” Carter pointed out. “Humans delude themselves by thinking it has to be. It is the imperfection that makes love perfect.

That love is a conflict seems to me obvious and natural. There isn't a single worthwhile work in world literature based on love that is only about the conquest of happiness, the effort to arrive at what we call love. It's the struggle that has always interested those who produce works of art - literature, cinema or poetry.

That I have no right to be jealous is irrelevant. It is a human passion: the sick, white underbelly of love.

Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care; Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there; Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.

This thing called love was a total mystery to me, but the vagaries of passion and despair that accompanied each devotion kept my life in high drama.

There's ups and downs in this love. Got a lot to learn in this love. Through the good and the bad, still got love.

Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous.

Love is never convenient-and rarely painless

We made mad love shadow love random love and abandoned love. Accidentally like a martyr. The hurt gets worse, and the heart gets harder.

Oh, my young friends, how delightful is the beginning of a love-business, and how undignified, sometimes, the end!