Richelle Mead Quotes

Tell me why you're so hard to forget. Don't remind me, I'm not over it. Tell me why, I can't seem to face the truth, I'm just a little too not over you.

My love for the band is still there. It hasn't changed, maybe that's why it's so painful these days.

Bitterly I wondered if Hardy was going to overshadow every relationship for the rest of my life, haunting me like a ghost. I didn't know how to let him go. I'd never even had him.

I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.

For me, a place unvisited is like an unrequited love. A dull ache that- try as you might to think it away, to convince yourself that she really wasn't the right country for you- just won't leave you in peace.

I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract: I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him.I must, then, repeat continually that we are forever sundered: - and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried desperately to forget you, I couldn't.

In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't ever want to lose that.

Alas! never had I loved him so well!

you can't deny they ever happened. You can't deny you ever loved them, love them still, even if loving them causes you pain

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.

Lost love is still love.

Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you.

For me, I still have feelings for all of my ex-girlfriends. In different parts of my life, I would miss that person. There's something that drew me to that person, and I shared something with them.

Everyone, whether you are married or have a boyfriend or girlfriend, there's always someone who has a hold of your heart. You learn to let it go, but there's always a place in your heart. For me, it was someone I went to college with and we had an amazing bond, but I left.

You know, when you've been dumped, the one thing you love to do is just forget about this human being, and then go on with your life - but no, you just love them harder.

Love becomes logically true when lost but still sought from the same source.

I haven't dated anyone in the ten years since we lost Steve just because I feel a connection still with Steve.

She looked at his young face, so full of concern and tenderness; and she remembered why she had run away from everyone else and sought solitude here. She yearned to kiss him, and she saw the answering longing in his eyes. Every fiber of her body told her to throw herself into his arms, but she knew what she had to do. She wanted to say, I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage; but instead she said: "I think I'm going to marry Alfred.

She wondered whether there would ever come an hour in her life when she didn't think of him -- didn't speak to him in her head, didn't relive every moment they'd been together, didn't long for his voice and his hands and his love. She had never dreamed of what it would feel like to love someone so much; of all the things that had astonished her in her adventures, that was what astonished her the most. She thought the tenderness it left in her heart was like a bruise that would never go away, but she would cherish it forever.

But I think she would have been happy with Fabrice,' I said. 'He was the great love of her life, you know.' Oh, dulling,' said my mother, sadly. 'One always thinks that. Every, every time.

What could he mean by speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me, when I know he does not; he cannot. ... But I won't care for him. I surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild, strange, miserable feeling

I wanna move on but my feelings too strong.

I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.

There's no ifs and buts or maybes, you're gonna miss, you're gonna miss my loving.