Lack of Affection Quotes

There is merely bad luck in not being loved; there is misfortune in not loving. All of us, today, are dying of this misfortune. For violence and hatred dry up the heart itself; the long fight for justice exhausts the love that nevertheless gave birth to it.

Friendship is but a name. I love no one.

Whoever gives nothing, has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.

Absence makes the heart grow frozen, not fonder.

If you have reasons to love someone, you don’t love them.

You can't say you're happy either. You don't even smile for me.

You never put her in your heart.

I don't think anything is the opposite of love.

What kills love? Only this: Neglect. Not to see you when you stand before me. Not to think of you in the little things. Not to make the road wide for you, the table spread for you. To choose you out of habit not desire, to pass the flower seller without a thought. To leave the dishes unwashed, the bed unmade, to ignore you in the mornings, make use of you at night. To crave another while pecking your cheek. To say your name without hearing it, to assume it is mine to call.

Whom we fear more than love, we are not far from hating.

I never got hugged as child.

Let no man think that he is loved by any who loveth none.

I never was coddled, or liked, or understood by my family.

I am dead. I have no desire for you. My body no longer wants the one who doesn’t love.

An inconstant woman is one who is no longer in love; a false woman is one who is already in love with another person; a fickle woman is she who neither knows whom she loves nor whether she loves or not; and the indifferent woman, one who does not love at all.

Everything has to do with loving and not loving.

I know virtually no one of my age who can remember a hug, or a smile from their father, or a 'Let's go play football.'

My husbands all repeatedly said the same thing - that I was not a very passionate woman.

My father is incapable of showing much affection, or even of carrying on a conversation. I didn't want to have a relationship with him just because he's my blood relative. It would bore me.

I nod like I'm not at all unnerved by this new cold side to him. Not cruel like his father. Not warm like the husband who sought me out on quiet nights. Something in between. This Linden has never woven his fingers through mine, never chosen me from a line of weary Gathered girls, never said he loved me in a myriad of coloured lights. We are nothing to each other.

I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.

Going through life without love is like going through a good dinner without an appetite -- everything seems so flat and tasteless.

It is the fear of being as dependent as a young child, while not being loved as a child is loved, but merely being kept alive against one's will.

I never experienced any feelings of closeness and caring from my parents.