Lisa Kleypas Quotes

Jealousy is the tie that binds, and binds, and binds.

My idea is this, that when you only love a little you're naturally not jealous — or are only jealous also a little, so that it doesn't matter. But when you love in a deeper and intenser way, then you're in the very same proportion jealous; your jealousy has intensity and, no doubt, ferocity.

The madness of love can always be suspended--to cook dinner or catch a plane, for instance.

Don't be upset. Don't listen to me. I only meant that I am jealous of a dark, unconscious element, something irrational, unfathomable. I am jealous of your toilet articles, of the drops of sweat on your skin, of the germs in the air you breathe which could get into your blood and poison you. And I am jealous of Komarovsky, as if he were an infectious disease. Someday he will take you away, just as certainly as death will someday separate us. I know this must seem obscure and confused, but I can't say it more clearly. I love you madly, irrationally, infinitely.

I find all that slightly destructive but mad love alluring.

Being with an insanely jealous person is like being in the room with a dead mammoth.

Jealousy lives upon doubts. It becomes madness or ceases entirely as soon as we pass from doubt to certainty.

To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light.

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

Jealousy is love bed of burning snarl.

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.

It's amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.

The guy who wants to spend all his time with you may seem romantic, but he's also the guy who'll try to stop you from doing anything that doesn't involve him. If he presses you to ditch hobbies, passions, and friends, it's time to ditch him.

Amor cuerdo, no es amor. (Sane love, is not love)

Beyond love, beyond unrequited love, perhaps even beyond any other passion known to humanity, deep, deep in the depths of the turgid, clinging, swamplike pit of despair that lies dormant within every soul, lurks JEALOUSY. Jealousy, that most demeaning and debilitating of emotions. Jealousy, which can double the strength of the love upon which it is based, but whilst doubling it, warp and pervert it, untill it is no longer recognizable as the thing of beauty it once was. Jealous love is no more like true love than Mr Hyde was like Dr Jekyll or a stagnant swamp is like a freshwater lake.

The jealous are the readiest of all to forgive, and all women know it.

I hope you're never happy with anybody but me, and every face you look into, I hope you're haunted by me. Yes, I'm possessive and jealous, at least I speak honestly.

Love is . . . a madness most discreet

Adjusting to Beau being a caveman over a girl had been almost as hard as seeing him with Ash. Beau didn't do jealous, not until Ashton had become his. Now he was a freaking lunatic.

Love that is fed by jealousy dies hard.

Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't stand the thought of them changing? Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't see clearly?

I was jealous; therefore I loved.

As a jealous man, I suffer four times over: because I am jealous, because I blame myself for being so, because I fear that my jealousy will wound the other, because I allow myself to be subject to a banality: I suffer from being excluded, from being aggressive, from being crazy, and from being common.

She is all the great heroines of the world in one. She is more than an individual. I love her, and I must make her love me. I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.

My former people were not totally wrong. Love is a kind of possession. It’s a poison. And if Alex no longer loves me, I can’t bear to think that he might love somebody else.