Was this love? Because it hurt. It was like a bit of glass stuck somewhere important--his heart or his head, and it was throbbing.
There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another.
Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing; Wed or cease to woo.
In reality, in love there is a permanent suffering which joy neutralizes, renders virtual delays, but which can at any moment become what it would have become long earlier if one had not obtained what one wanted -- atrocious.
All you who are in love Aye and can not remove it I pity the pain that you endure. For experience lets me know That your hearts are filled with woe It's a woe that no mortal can cure. -"the Curragh of Kildare
My love is like some raven at my window with a broken wing.
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other, That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.
That was the true terror of love, that you could love with your whole heart, your whole soul, and lose both
Love is cruel as the grave.
Woe is me! The winged words on which my soul would pierce Into the heights of love's rare universe, Are chains of lead around its flight of fire-- I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire.
Sadness of love without release.
Love is more cruel than lust.
Love laid his sleepless head On a thorny rose bed: And his eyes with tears were red, And pale his lips as the dead.
To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
They say that true love hurts, well this could almost kill me young love murder, that is what this must be I would give it all to not be sleeping alone
All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.
As many as the shells that are on the shore, so many are the pains of love; the darts that wound are steeped in much poison.
