Richelle Mead Quotes

He turns and walks away, moving so quickly that the candle flames shiver with the motion of the air. “I miss you,” Isobel says as he leaves, but the sentiment is crushed by the clatter of the beaded curtain falling closed behind him.

Breakups just hit you harder when you're younger. When I was a teenager, it felt like the most depressing thing in the world if a boy I was infatuated with didn't like me back!

I can't make you love me, if you don't.

She dumped me for the worst reason of all. For absolutely no reason at all...I mean, if she fell in love with someone else, or I did something wrong, or I let her down in some unforgivable way...That, I'd understand, right? But instead, she said...it wasn't anything. Not a single thing. It was just me. I was nice. I was kind. We just...she didn't see the connection anymore. I think she thought I was boring. And the cruelest part is, when someone says something mean about you, you know when they're right.

Stephen kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest, Robin’s lost in play, But the kiss in Colin’s eyes Haunts me night and day.

Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable.

I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart.

I told him I loved him,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And he just said it wasn’t enough.” Her eyes were wide and bleak . “How am I supposed to live with that?

She had borne so long the cruelty of belonging to him and not being claimed by him.

It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one she loved. And I knew I wasn’t. I knew it, and I hated her for it. I hated her for not caring about me. I hated her for leaving that night, and I hated myself , too, not only because I let her go but because if I had been enough for her, she wouldn’t have even wanted to leave. She would have just lain with me and talked and cried, and I would have listened and kissed at her tears as they pooled in her eyes.

Mort was hurt by this. It was one thing not to want to marry someone, but quite another to be told they didn't want to marry you.

you once liked me, didn't you?, he asked. LIKED you- I LOVED you. Everybody loved you. You could've had anybody you wanted for the asking.

Why can’t you just love me? Why can’t you just be in love with me?

Is a lifetime long enough to hold the regret that I have for that fantastically aborted but crazily sweet love affair?

It hurts to much to be close to you, but continually pushed away.

Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter.

Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.

I can definitely relate to Jacob's feelings in Breaking Dawn. When he gets the invitation to the wedding, he doesn't handle it very well. And I don't think I would either. If I were in love with a girl and she told me she was marrying somebody else, that would crush me. And that's what it does. It destroys Jacob.

Little Jane's love would have been my best reward, without it, my heart is broken.

Why must I be lonely in love?

It surely is far better to be disliked by somebody you don't love than by somebody you do. Even so, I mind. Even so, failing to love somebody is a failure.

She wanted nothing that he could offer her, except perhaps his absence.

I thought about how stupid it is, that all of us are born destined to desire somebody else, though desire brings with it such disappointment and pain. Humankind's history must be scored bloody with heartbreak. This hankering for affection is a blight upon us.

I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about, and she's got everything that I have to live without... He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart. He's the song in the car I keep singing; don't know why I do.

He was addicted to me and now he has gone cold turkey. He used to send me fifty texts a day. And now he is ignoring me. It's like I was once his Barack Obama. And now I am John McCain, conceding defeat like a sad-face sock puppet, knowing I have sold the best of myself. He, my electorate, not only does not want me, he actively feels pity.