Milan Kundera Quotes

We danced with one body, one soul... For me, Margot is my family. She is all I have, only her.

I might be stupid to think love is love, but I do.

There are two sorts of affection - the love of a woman you respect, and the love for the woman you love.

The final word is love.

Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul

He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eys, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge. And his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.

Love is a second life; it grows into the soul, warms every vein, and beats in every pulse.

This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is wicked distraction.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

Most important and most vulnerable of human emotions; Love.

I want to fall in love in such a way that the mere sight of a man, even a block away from me, will shake and pierce me, will weaken me, and make me tremble and soften and melt.

When their lips met, and their tongues touched, it was like they were kissing in a hundred different places, and her senses were flooded with new sensations and old memoires. He kissed her, and their souls melted into each other in a melody older than time.

Love is the admiration and cherishing of the amiable qualities of the beloved person, upon the condition of yourself being the object of their action.

There was a difference between loving someone and being in love

Mujer, you own my soul.

Love is like a fever which comes and goes quite independently of the will. ... there are no age limits for love.

Love, all agreeable as it is, charms more by the fashion in which it displays itself, than by its own true merit.

Sorrow is implicit in love as gravitation is implicit in mass.

Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I loved them all the way one loves at any age -- if it's real at all -- obsessively, painfully, with wild exultation, with guilt, with conflict; I wrote poems to and about them, I put them into novels (disguised of course); I brooded upon why they were as they were, so often maddening don't you know? I wrote them ridiculous letters. I lived with their faces. I knew their every gesture by heart. I stalked them like wild animals. I studied them as if they were maps of the world -- and in a way I suppose they were.

In love, such a word, whispered, is a mysterious kiss of the soul to the soul.

Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.

In true love it is the soul that envelops the body.