Cyril Connolly Quotes

There is always that one person in our lives who we deeply love, and that person can also destroy us.

Having blown up my own long-term marriage via an extramarital affair, followed by a traumatic divorce, I tend to think of love as less a gently glowing hearth than a set of flaming train tracks you strap yourself onto.

I'm not a proponent of staying together and being miserable and damaged and coming through actually a more battered person.

Why do we love love when love seems to hate us?

Love is a popular romantic notion that leads to nothing but its own brand of misery.

Stephen had spared no expense in making himself more unhappy, his own position as a rejected lover clearer.

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

Hell, madam, is to love no longer.

I always tell people that I'll sound exactly like Alanis Morissette after I've had more boyfriends. I'll be just as anguished-sounding.

In regards to your love life, you're just entering into a whole of pain if you talk about it. If you've never said anything, there are no sound bites to haunt you when you're crying into a box of Kleenex after it all goes wrong.

In my experience lust only ever leads to misery. All that suspicion and jealousy and anguish it unleashes. I don't want those things in my life.

I think many people can relate to that excruciating pain of love gone wrong. I'd rather have a broken arm than a broken heart.

Mother's Day is a torment if your mother is dead. Valentine's Day is a torment if you don't got one. And at some point in our lives, we will be tormented by Valentine's Day even if we're relatively lucky in love.

We're always looking at this love through the eyes of the person who is suffering because of this love.

Love and despair go hand in hand.

Love hurts, love scars, love wounds, and mars.

I have sadness in me. I have anger in me. I have heartbreak in me.

I often liken my love life to the pathetic fallacy found in a Bronte novel: a long and winding road tented by storm clouds and rain. Kidding.

Oh, darling, I've been so miserable.

And if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate.

I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.

Seems it's my destiny for love to cause me misery.

Love is an incurable disease. In love, there is permanent suffering. Those who love and those who are happy are not the same.

Of all the ways we have found to hurt ourselves, the worse has been through love. We are always suffering because of someone who doesn't love us, or someone who has left us, or someone who won't leave us. If we are alone, it is because no one wants us.

This was my one brush with love. Was it love? It felt awful enough. I spent another two years crawling around in the skin of it, smoking too much and growing too thin and having stray thoughts of jumping from my balcony like a tortured heroine in a Russian novel.