Teresa Medeiros Quotes

Men are much oftener thrown on their knees by the melancholy than by the agreeable passions.

Most anger stems from feelings of weakness, sadness and fear: hard to remember when one is at the receiving end of its defiant roar.

It takes courage to grieve, to honor the pain we carry. We can grieve in tears or in meditative silence, in prayer or in song. In touching the pain of recent and long-held griefs, we come face to face with our genuine human vulnerability, with helplessness and hopelessness. These are the storm clouds of the heart.

They said love made you strong, but in Louise's opinion it made you weak. It corkscrewed into your heart and you couldn't get it out again, not without ripping your heart to pieces.

You had my heart inside of your hand but you played it to the beat

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.

He broke my heart, and now it's raining, just to rub it in.

I can't do this Ash. It's killing me. Having you this close and not touching you is driving me insane. You're his Ash. You're his. You made your choice and I understand why you chose him. I don't hold it against you but dammit Ash it hurts

The jealous have but moments of Delight for years of Pain.

There's no love like a lost love and no pain like a broken heart.

Guilt and rage, hatred and fear were pathways to weakness and clumsy choices.

A part of her wanted to tell him she still loved him, and that even though this love was hopeless and long over, it still consumed her year after year. It was a tangled hairball of feelings and she couldn't pull forth any one strand.

Red and raw like my heart, pried from your's, the two beating, no longer together, but a thousand miles between them when only yesterday they thumped in unison.

Jealousy has always been my cross, the weakness and woundedness in me that has most often caused me to feel ugly and unlovable, like the Bad Seed.

I'm weak cause I believe you and I'm mad because I love.

Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it’s a terrible thing. I’m broken. My heart is broken. Help me. The old woman turned and hobbled away. Come back, thought Edward. Fix me

Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.

And I'm stuck in it with no way out. I love you, and I can't stop, and you don't even care!

She is sadder and sadder, and for a man there is no balm more soothing than the sadness he has caused a woman.

Of all the passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest service, and pays the bitterest wages. Its service is to watch the success of one's enemy; its wages to be sure of it.

Bitter love, a violet with it's crown of thorns in a thicet of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?

When love ends, the beloved is no longer standing on a pedestal, but in a hole.