Marcel Proust Quotes

It's easier to identify with loss than love, because we have had so much more experience of it.

We’ve died so many times now that we can only wonder why we still care.

Sometimes, love feels like a life or death situation. Losing true love is pretty much as bad as it gets, other than actually dying or losing good health. Most people know that. Most people can relate. It's like the end of the world.

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!

I have spent my life falling. Not the kind that Tiny's talking about. He's talking about love. I'm talking about life. In my kind of falling, there's no landing. There's only hitting the ground. Hard. Dead, or wanting to be dead. So the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world. Because you feel you have no control over it. Because you know how it ends.

It's kinda hard to be optimistic, When your homies lying dead on the pavement twisted.

Here is The Boy with the Thorn in His Side, dying in your world. A man made monster with every human emotion, overdosed on worthlessness in a world that could never wrap it’s head around him (so don’t even try). When it’s all over just remember every single word you ever said was always just a bullet to his head. Bury him underground between friends and love - the only things that are gonna make it to the end with him. Look for his body buried beneath where the yellow weeds are growing and know he’s still living in his nightmares.

The whole world can become the enemy when you lose what you love.

We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.

Wait. You don't understand. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted the hurting to stop." I smoothed a bloodied lock of hair from her eyes and felt very tired as I said, "The only people who never hurt are dead." The light died out of her eyes, her breath slowing. She whispered, barely audible, "I don't understand." I answered, "I don't either." A tear slid from her eye and mixed with the blood. Then she died.

The most conspicuous thing about suffering is, as W.H. Auden once observed, its banality. The day is green, the sun is shinging, someone is eating, or opening a window, the torturer's horse is scatching its innocent behind on a tree, and in a mere second someone we love is dead.

Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.

Love is a hell you cannot bear.

Loss is something that I think is ultimately the number one struggle for humans.

I know what it's like to lose.

There's the idea that love is supposed to hurt, but it really shouldn't hurt.

Cry if you have a compound fracture, by all means. Or if your grandpa died. But otherwise, save it for your pillow.

My mum has a lot of pain in her heart to where love is pain for her. But I teach my kids love is beautiful.

Nobody knows the pain I've been through.

Love is intense, and sadness is intense.

I saw tough times, and there were many nights when I would just cry out aloud.

It's never easy to watch. It's never great to see your friend or teammate put himself through hell.

But how to explain suffering because of a man? It's not explainable. With that kind of suffering, a person feels as if they're in hell, because there is no nobility, no greatness - only misery.

Despair is part of love.