Jean-Jacques Rousseau Quotes

Only the broken-hearted know the truth about love.

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

A broken heart is a very pleasant complaint for a man in London if he has a comfortable income.

Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.

In how many lives does love really play a dominant part? The average taxpayer is no more capable of a 'grand passion' than of a grand opera.

I'm mad, they say. I am temperamental and dizzy and disagreeable. Well, let them talk. I can take it. Only one person can hurt me. Her name is Ida Lupino.

There is no happiness in love, except at the end of an English novel.

For the most part, that message hasn't changed a lot over the years - love is still love, and heartbreak is still heartbreak.

I'm not really a believer in romantic, happily-ever-after love stories.

Christmas carols always brought tears to my eyes. I also cry at weddings. I should have cried at a couple of my own.

Everyone falls in love, everyone gets their heart broken.

There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.

Love is very beautiful, but very, very sad.

We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so forlornly unhappy as when we have lost our love object or its love.

Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing; Wed or cease to woo.

That was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love that does not exist. but darling, You are the only exception

Day just smiles at me, an expression so sad that it breaks through my numbness, and I begin to cry. Those bright blue eyes. Before me is the boy who has bandaged my wounds on the streets of Lake, who has guarded his family with every bone in his body, who has stayed by my side in spite of everything, the boy of light and laughter and life, of grief and fury and passion, the boy whose fate is intertwined with mine, forever and always. "I love you," he whispers. "Can you stay awhile?

your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn't help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.

That the world I was in could be soft, lovely, and nourishing was more than I could bear, and so I stood there and wept, for I didn't want to love one more thing in my life, didn't want one more thing that could make my heart break into a million little pieces at my feet.

Not like a heart, which let people in without permission, held them in a special place she never had any say in and then yearned for them to remain there longer than they planned.

It hurts to love. It's like giving yourself to be flayed and knowing that at any moment the other person may just walk off with your skin.

And when Eleanor smiled, something broke inside of him. Something always did.

When you ask people about love, they tell you about heartbreak.

You can't always tell when someone's keeping something inside and not really happy.