Annie Proulx Quotes

I'm learning more and more that love plus attachment equals pain.

Must being in love always mean being in pain?

THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!

There is no love without suffering.

This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.

I think many people can relate to that excruciating pain of love gone wrong. I'd rather have a broken arm than a broken heart.

Love and despair go hand in hand.

Love hurts, love scars, love wounds, and mars.

Romantic love is painful.

I feel hurt and pain times a million, all the time.

There are only two kinds of pain: too much love or too little.

We get divorce, we get conned, someone we love dies, or we can't find anybody to love us or somebody breaks our heart and we realize this fairy tale ain't fair. So we suffer.

Towards the end of your life you have something like a pain schedule to fill out - a long schedule like a federal document, only it's your pain schedule. Endless categories. First, physical causes - like arthritis, gallstones, menstrual cramps. New category, injured vanity, betrayal, swindle, injustice. But the hardest items of all have to do with love. The question then is: So why does everybody persist? If love cuts them up so much.

Why must love always be accompanied--sooner or later--by sorrow and pain? Why not? Because pure bliss is for pure idiots.

Love sucks. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it's just another way to bleed.

Had God created Love to make pain feel even worse?

Love is an incurable malady like those pathetic states in which rheumatism affords the sufferer a brief respite only to be replaced by epileptiform headaches.

Can anybody tell what sorrows are locked up with our best affections, or what pain may be associated with every pleasure?

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live

The truth is simple, you do not die from love. You only wish you did.

Why is the measure of love loss?

May new sufferings torment your soul.

There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and woman to fill our day; But when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers & Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.