Clarice Lispector Quotes

Yes, it's crazy. Love is either crazy or it's nothing at all.

Lover," she whispers, and closes her eyes. It falls upon her. Love is like dying.

Love is intense, and sadness is intense.

Love is ever new because it never groweth old.

true love is felonious… You take someone’s breath away… You rob them of the ability to utter a single word… You steal a heart.

Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as murder.

Passionate love is a quenchless thirst.

Romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art. Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved. Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible.

Without warning as a whirlwind swoops on an oak Love shakes my heart

Love is a fever," she said. "And when you come out of it you'll discover whether you've been lucky - or not.

My love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That's sweetly played in tune. How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry. Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt with the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love. And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love, Though it were ten thousand mile.

Love, the simplest, strongest, and most unforgiving of all emotions.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire.

A real flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward to fairy lands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds.

Love is a wave building to a crescendo. Ride if you will, ride it with me.

Love is a robber and he lives within your eyes.

What a strange world it is where you can have as much sex as you like but love is taboo. I'm talking about the real thing, the grand passion, which may not allow affection or convenience or happiness. The truth is that love smashes into your life like an ice floe, and even if your heart is built like the Titanic you go down. That's the size of it, the immensity of it. It's not proper, it's not clean, it's not containable.

Loving is almost a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides.

Love is a burning thing and it makes a firey ring.

Passion is the energy that love creates with no object other than itself.

Love is not a volunteer thing.

There is no remedy for love but to love more.