Elizabeth Gilbert Quotes

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

I'm weak cause I believe you and I'm mad because I love.

Please stop looking at me, she thought, afraid of his eyes and terrified of her own heart.

Light on my heart, Light on my feet, Light in your eyes, I can't even speak Do you even know, How you make me weak

I hate you." I love you." You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." I'm trying not to be.

You are not going to die, I know I said I'd let you, but I can't.

He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

I'm optimistic yet disillusioned, hopeful yet frustrated.

There is another man within me that's angry with me.

I had thought loving two people so much would straighten it.

My mind is cautious but my heart is in a hurry.

It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves, and blissful gratification and tenderness

Her lips were drawn to his like a moth to a flame.

My heart says one thing. My head says another. Very hard to get your heart and head together in life.

I had never realized a woman could have to struggle to keep her hands off a man, but here I was, digging my nails into my palms, staring at the inside of my eyelids as though I could maybe see through them if I peered hard enough.

I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night. I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye.

I loved feeling special. I hated feeling special.

Maybe I'm not good for you. Maybe what I feel is wrong. Because I did love Ashton. She was all I needed... but never did I feel the uncontrollable desire to get her underneath me. Never did I make up reasons to get her to wrap her legs around me so I could feel her pressed up against me. Never. He swallowed hard. "Never did I think about being inside her

I don’t like you, Park. Sometimes I think I live for you

She knew, of course that she was being supremely unfair, that Franz was the best man she ever had- he was intelligent, he understood her paintings, he was handsome and good-but the more she thought about it, the more she longed to ravish his intelligence, defile his kindheartedness, and violate his powerless strength

I do not love you-except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you my heart moves from the cold into the fire.

I think my work comes out of both an intense desire for connection and what it means to feel isolated. There's always going to be a kind of tidal movement back and forth between the two.

I seem to remember even from when I was very young that when you loved someone you also hated them for making you love them, since loving someone is so incredibly humiliating.

I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once and cannot add up the sum.

My brained warned me, but my heart didn't want to take its advice.