I guess I have always been deeply terrified to really be someone's wife since I know from life one cannot love another, ever, really.
Never had much faith in love or miracles, Never wanna put my heart on the line
No married woman ever trusts her husband absolutely, nor does she ever act as if she did trust him. Her utmost confidence is as wary as an American pickpocket's confidence that the policeman on the beat will stay bought.
Would I ever find forever love? Do I really want to, when forever was a word without meaning?
Sometime between when the Summer of Love ended and the Summer of Sam began, America became a nation of cynics about love.
Tell me love isn't true, it's just something that we do.
I don't love him, & he definitely doesn't love me. Still, he semi-fills a gaping black hole inside me. That place wants love, maybe even needs love, but love is something I"m pretty sure doesn't exist.
Because your eyes are slant and slow, Because your hair is sweet to touch, My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.
She had fallen in love so many times that she began to suspect she was not falling in love at all, but doing something much more ordinary.
Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don’t know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I’m afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces, and open flames.
We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.
Love is for fools. It is a surging of blood in the loins ... there is no mystery, and no magic. Find someone else, my boy.
