Anne Bronte Quotes

A single smile from her could make his entire being burn. One touch from her hand and he was undone. It was terrifying to think of how much power this one person had over him. How one single gesture from her could affect him so profoundly. (Sin thinking about Kat)

Basically it's the core story. About a guy having an affair with the mother of the girl he falls in love with.

Isn't it funny.I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than i ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.

Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.

To be sure you know no actual good of me, but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.

I always think that if you deal with extremely emotional, even melodramatic, subject matter, as I constantly do, the best way to handle those situations is at a sufficient remove. It's like a doctor and a nurse and a casualty situation. You can't help the patient and you can't help yourself by emoting. And I don't think cinema is intended for therapy, so I object also to that huge, massive manipulation which is perpetrated on the public.

I was thinking about this girl you love so much," she said, "And this place I love so much. And how that happens. How you can just fall into it.

As an actor, I know that any feelings you're showing are manufactured. But I still don't want to fool my mind into thinking my wife's into another guy.

No matter how strong our resolve, we eventually find ourselves enslaved by the compulsive preference for one particular woman. You’ve been caught, my friend. You may as well reconcile yourself to it.” Nick did not bother trying to deny it. “I was going to be so much smarter than you,” he muttered. Sir Ross grinned. “I prefer to think that intelligence has nothing to do with it. For if a man’s intellect is measured by his ability to remain untouched by love, I would be the greatest idiot alive.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn't that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life.

He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.

There is something inexpressibly charming in falling in love and, surely, the whole pleasure lies in the fact that love isn't lasting.

You've got to stop thinking everyone's problems can be solved by falling in love.

Justification for infidelity and dishonesty in all their manifestations lies in the marginal cost economics of “just this once.

Never fall in love with an idea. They're whores.

He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real.

I'm in love. So kill me.

I think that it’s fearless to fall for your best friend, even though he’s in love with someone else.

You think I'm in love, that I'm sent from above, I'm not that innocent.

I think pretty much all people who love each other had some kind of thing at first sight. I mean, there has to be some kind of moment where you, like, feel a different energy around someone.

If I'm dreaming please don't wake me up cause baby I can't get enough of what you do.

Lust is not the worst thing. It is because any day, any time, lust may turn into love that we have to avoid it. And when we love our sin then we are damned indeed.

Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.

Falling in love was not really a choice; it just struck me.