Stephenie Meyer Quotes

No one can actually define love, but you attempt to, and the closest you can get is longing. And that itself has a melancholy to it. You can say dread, or doom - it's that feeling we all feel when we fall in love with someone: we have this horrible, fearful feeling that maybe we will never have that person in our life.

The song Venus de Milo, the whole subject of it is Love is a drug.

All love is unrequited. All of it.

You're not sick you're just in love.

When I'm not near the girl I love, I love the girl I'm near.

There is no shame in my saying that we all want to be loved by someone. As I look back over my life in romance, I don't feel I've ever had that.

Love is jealous, and ingenious in self-torture in proportion as it is pure and intense.

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

Have you ever loved somebody, loved her completely, but had to end the relationship for life reasons?

I have a one-track mind. That's all that I'm interested in - love. And the lack of it. When it stops.

Love without sex is still the most efficient form of hell known to man.

I always had a penchant for falling in love. Every time I found myself without a mate, I fell into a state of low-sizzling panic.

People still do fall in and out of love and can and cannot express what they feel and are very much pained because the person they love is with somebody else. That's happening the whole world over, and I think it always has been.

I need you more than he did. I don't expect you to love me as you did him.

There are people you are madly in love with and thought you could never live without, and suddenly you break up and think, 'What was I thinking?'.

All my lyrics are about my love life or the lack thereof.

First and foremost, 'Call Me by Your Name' is a story about love, and first loves, and unrequited, and then, later, requited love.

I just like being as romantic as possible. I thrive off unrequited love. I've been in love in one way or another since I was 14. I go full-on in and get obsessive.

And yet he had loved her. A Bookish girl heedless of her beauty, unconscious of her effect. She'd been prepared to live her life alone but from the moment he'd known her he'd needed her.

Desire, even in its wildest tantrums, can neither persuade me it is love nor stop me from wishing it were.

Love was like rain: it turned into ice, or it disappeared. Now you saw it, now you couldn't find it no matter how hard you might search. Love evaporated; obsession was realer; it hurt, like a pin in your bottom, a stone in your shoe. It didn't go away in the blink of an eye. A morning phone call filled with regret. A letter that said, Dear you, good-bye from me. Obsession tasted like something familiar. Something you'd known your whole life. It settled and lurked; it stayed with you.

And I wish that I was made of stone So that I would not have to see A beauty impossible to define A beauty impossible to believe A beauty impossible to endure The blood imparted in little sips The smell of you still on my hands As I bring the cup up to my lips No God up in the sky No devil beneath the sea Could do the job that you did, baby Of bringing me to my knees

I am hated for loving. I am haunted for wanting.

Sometimes a man gets carried away when he feels like he should be having his fun and much too blind to see the damage he's done, oh sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one. So I'll wait for you and I'll burn will I ever see your sweet return, oh will I ever learn? Oh, Lover you should've come over. Oh love well I'm waiting for you.