Lorenz Hart Quotes

I missed him. Love, I realized, was something your spine memorized. There was nothing you could do about that.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.

If you've really loved a book, or a movie for that matter, really loved it, what you want is that same book again, but as if you've never read it. And when you get something unfamiliar, you feel betrayed.

When I was flying to Rome, we flew over London; I felt like bursting into tears. It's part of me, so I can't leave London behind for good.

I was in love once. It was terrible.

I feel perhaps my heart is still in China.

Delhi is my emotional home. I still dream of owning a home there.

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

If you think back to your first love, you always remember them and little things always remind you of them.

In the end, all you want is someone to long for you when it comes time to put you in the ground.

He thinks about her, at this moment, in her house, a few thin walls away, packing her life into boxes and bags and he wonders what memories she is rediscovering, what thoughts are catching in her mouth like the dust blown from unused textbooks. He wonders if she has buried any traces of herself under her floorboards. He wonders what those traces would be if she had. And he wonders again why he thinks about her so much when he knows so little to think about.

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

So until we meet again, I am thinking of you always; I love you; I wish you were here...in my arms.

I love her. I need her. I gave away everything I had for her. I just wanted her to know me.

There's an old poem by Neruda that I've always been captivated by, and one of the lines in it has stuck with me ever since the first time I read it. It says "love is so short, forgetting is so long." It's a line I've related to in my saddest moments, when I needed to know someone else had felt that exact same way. And when we're trying to move on, the moments we always go back to aren't the mundane ones. They are the moments you saw sparks that weren't really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning.

There are lovers content with longing. I’m not one of them.

I miss you already I don’t need to leave. I can stay. . . . Mmmm.

You never forget your first love.

Chicken,' Josie said. 'Have you ever been in love?' Peter looked at Josie, and thought of how they had once tied a note with their addresses to a helium balloon and let it go in her backyard, certain it would reach Mars. Instead, they had received a letter from a widow who lived two blocks away. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I think so.

There are things I miss," you said. "But if I didn't have you, I'd miss more.

Wish I could spin my world into reverse just to have you back again

My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

The love of your life won't be the man you end up with, and you'll always compare the two.

I miss us, too. I always have, and probably always will

Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it.