Deep Attachment Quotes

I love you as one loves certain dark things.

Consider love: is there a nobler outpouring, a rapture less suspect? Its shudders rival music, compete with the tears of solitude and of ecstasy: sublime...but a sublimity inseperable from the urinary tract: transports bordering upon excretion, a heaven of the glands, sudden sancitity of the orifices. It takes no more than a moment of attention for this intoxication, shaken, to cast you back into the ordures of physiology or a moment of fatigue to recognize that so much ardor produces only a variety of mucous.

Love is like a fever which comes and goes quite independently of the will. ... there are no age limits for love.

Love is great, love is fine. Out the box, out of line. The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more.

I love you, because the love you gave me was the only love I've ever had, the only love I ever will have

Love is the occupation of the idle man, the amusement of a busy one, and the shipwreck of a sovereign.

I've always considered Florence as my girlfriend. I don't have to explain my love for this city.

What is Love? Listen! It is the rainbow that stands out, in all its glorious many-colored hues, illuminating and making glad again the dark clouds of life. It is the morning and the evening star, that in glad refulgence, there on the awed horizon, call Nature's hearts to an uplifted rejoicing in God's marvelous firmament!

Love is what I give to the one I love.

When a baby first looks at you...when it laughs that deep, unselfconscious gurgle; or when it cries and you pick it up and it clings sobbing to you...then you are-happy is not the precise word-filled.

Sometimes losing a pet is more painful than losing a human because in the case of the pet, you were not pretending to love it.

Love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.

One cannot fall in love, really; one has to be in love.

Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is.

Behold this little Bane- The Boon of all alive- As common as it is unknown The name of it is Love.

I think I can live without you, but it won't be any kind of life.

Love: You can't start it like a car, you can't stop it with a gun.

Neither of us says the word love, not once. It would be tempting fate; it would be romance, bad luck.

But if it couldn't be love and it didn't feel like lust, what was it? Like? Did he like her? Of course, he did, but that word didn't capture his feelings, either. It was a little too... vague and soft around the edges. People liked ice cream. People liked to watch television. It meant nothing, and it didn't come close to explaining why, for the first time, he felt the urge to tell someone the truth.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dark, almost black, filled with pain. She'd let someone do that to her. She'd known all along she felt things too deeply. She became attached. She didn't want a lover who could walk away from her, because she could never do that - love someone completely and survive intact if her left her.

I don't think I can ever escape from music.

When you actually fall in love, no one sees that other person the way that you do.

Love is only a small thing, enough for one person, and any suggestion that the heart might be larger than this is considered perverse.

What is love? There is nothing in the world, neither man nor Devil nor any thing, that I hold as suspect as love, for it penetrates the soul more than any other thing. Nothing exists that so fills and binds the heart as love does. Therefore, unless you have those weapons that subdue it, the soul plunges through love into an immense abyss.