Dorothy L. Sayers Quotes

Doc still loved true things but he knew that it was not a general love and it could be a very dangerous mistress.

He loves you, really he does. He'd love you even if it destroyed him. He matches you.

Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

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

Love can be a terrible curse, Eragon. It can make you overlook even the largest flaws in a person's behavior.

Done so many evil things in the name of love, it's a crying shame. I never did see no fire that could put out a flame.

This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.

A man in love prefers his passion to every other consideration, and is fonder of his mistress than he is of virtue. Should she prove vicious, she makes vice lovely in his eyes.

People as old and powerful as he should never be given someone to love. For Anna he would destroy the world.

...his love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered.

Darling -- I suppose the world would consider us absolutely crazy, but it is wonderful to feel that way, isn't it? Sort of a perpetual springtime in our hearts.

I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to-it's dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.

How did you find me here? If I was blind, I would see you. Stay with me. Forever. That's the whole point. I'll never leave. Not even if you kill me.

Love was the most savage monster of all.

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

Never love someone whom you think you need to mend – or who makes you feel like you should be mended. There are boys out there who look for shining girls; they will stand next to you and say quiet things in your ear that only you can hear and that will slowly drain the joy out of your heart. The books about vampires are true, baby. Drive a stake through their hearts and run away.

It's an old story, really: seduced and corrupted, in the end, by an obsessive love for the text.

‎"Dost thou understand? I love thee!" he cried again."What love!" said the unhappy girl with a shudder.He resumed,--"The love of a damned soul.

Love makes you blind to your own survival. And if it doesn't then it's not love at all.

Love" and all the obsessive behaviors associated with it, was an absurd emotion.

In metropolitan cases, the love of the most single-eyed lover, almost invariably, is nothing more than the ultimate settling of innumerable wandering glances upon some one specific object.

I love her and she loves me, and we hate each other with a wild hatred born of love.

There is a terrible blindness in the love that wants only to accommodate. It's not only to do with omissions and half-truths. It implants a lack of being in the speaker and robs the self of an identity without which it is impossible for one to grow close to another.

We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.

I loved her like a rabbit loves a rattlesnake