Top 1200 Love For Her Quotes & Sayings - Page 3

In those days, I didn't understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contadictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.

I knew from the minute I saw her (Hillary) that if I got involved with her I would fall in love with her.

Love of country is like love of woman - he loves her best who seeks to bestow on her the highest good.

If jealousy was the vindaloo of love, I'd imagined her tongue burning, and such a fire forcing her to spill her truth.

When you're in love, when somebody says something like, "How can you be with that woman?" you say, "What do you mean? I am with this goddess of love, the fulfillment of my whole life. Why are you saying this? Why do you want to throw a rock at her or punish me for being in love with her?

A man has to find a good woman, and when he finds her he has to win her love. then he has to earn her respect. then he has to cherish her trust. and then he has to, like, go on doing that for as long as they live. Until they both die. That's what it's all about. That's the most important thing in the world. That's what a man is, Yaar. A man is truly a man when he wins the love of a good woman, earns her respect, and keeps her trust. Until you do that, you're not a man.

I love my mother, not as a prisoner of atherosclerosis, but as a person; and I must love her enough to accept her as she is, now, for as long as this dwindling may take.

I don't think of love in terms of relationships. It happens in terms of seconds, but it goes away like that, too. I pass a nurse, I love her, it ends when I go around a corner; at a restaurant I see a forlorn man at the table next to me, and I love him, and the conversation pulls me back, and it's ended. A patient comes in, and she is sick, and I love her, and then she dies, and I never see her again. This is what I live for. Don't think that it's sad.

A mother's love is a blessing No matter where you roam. Keep her while you have her, You'll miss her when she's gone -- Angela's Ashes.

Unconditional love. That’s what he wants to give her and what he wants from her. People should give without wanting anything in return. All other giving is selfish. But he is being selfish a little, isn’t he, by wanting her to love him in return? He hopes that she loves him in return. Is it possible for a person to love without wanting love back? Is anything so pure? Or is love, by its nature, a reciprocity, like oceans and clouds, an evaporating of seawater and a replenishing of rain?

He loved her, and would love her; and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain.

I love Feist. I love Francoise Hardy. She was a French singer-songwriter in the '60s who was pretty huge. I think I'm drawn to her sincerity. I love Fiona Apple, too - she's quirky and really honest in her lyrics.

Whatever else you do, listen to your Deepest Self. Love Her and be true to Her, speak Her truth, always.

Ethan: I love you, I whispered in her ear. She held my face in her hands and leaned back so she could look at me. Lena: I don't think I could ever love anything the way I love you.

I love Jessica Chastain. I love her; she's amazing, and she's such a good actress, and she's been nominated for Oscars, and she's just a big role model to me. I love her.

This is my experience of Oprah Winfrey - she makes decisions as frequently as she can to contribute with consciousness, with awareness, with love. I know - this is the source of her joy, her vitality, her unending creativity and her connection to people.

He loved her beyond all reason and didn't expect her to love him back. He was just waiting for her to wise up.

When a woman's heart is flowing over for the first time with deep and passionate love, she is all love. Every faculty of her soul rushes together in the intensity of the one feeling; thought, reflection, conscience, duty, the past, the future, they are names to her light as the breath which speaks them; her soul is full.

I love Elizabeth Hurley. I have met her on a few occasions and was stunned by her beauty and her attitude. Very cool and easy going.

I love it when you like a character, and then she does something you don't like, and you hate her for a while - then you love her again. I'd like to see her have unlikable moments that the audience understands and sympathizes with.

I love Joan Didion, but I love her writing. I don't think meeting her could solve my problems or make me understand the world better.

Jane and I - somehow we fell into each other's arms, and I adored her! I loved her from the minute I saw her. I don't think I knew what love was.

Annabeth didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Percy, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.” He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?” He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.

Not yet, but I do wanna work with Leona Lewis. I love her, she's so sweet! I think she's working on her album as well so I'd love to do a nice powerful female duet with her. I think our voices would blend really well. There's a couple of other people I'd love to work with - like Fergie, Justin Timberlake and Alicia Keys.

Brigan was saying her name, and he was sending her a feeling. It was courage and strength, and something else too, as if he were standing with her, as if he'd taken her within himself, letting her rest her entire body for a moment on his backbone, her mind in his mind, her heart in the fire of his. The fire of Brigan's heart was astounding. Fire understood, and almost could not believe, that the feeling he was sending her was love.

A woman of faith is blessed by faithful men in her life who hold the priesthood of God and honor this privilege: her father, bishop, husband, brothers, sons. They value her and the divine gifts given by God to His daughter. They sustain and encourage, and they understand the great mission of her life as a woman. They love her; they bless her.

Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine -- If he love with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him -- Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse -- It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not?

Why do I doubt her? Perhaps she is just very sensitive, and hypersensitive people are false when others doubt them; they waver. And one thinks them insincere. Yet I want to believe her. At the same time it does not seem so very important that she should love me. It is not her role. I am so filled with my love of her. And at the same time I feel that I am dying. Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.

One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye, tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.

In all her twisted perfection she had made me fall helplessly in love with her. A life without her in it seemed pointless.

The art of not experiencing feelings. A child can experience her feelings only when there is somebody there who accepts her fully, understands her, and supports her. If that person is missing, if the child must risk losing the mother's love of her substitute in order to feel, then she will repress emotions.

It's funny when people say they see a lot of Madonna in me. I just feel so flattered because I love her and I am just her biggest fan. She is very strong. I love the way she does interviews -you know you won't get anything past her.

She really started to cry, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing her all over - anywhere - her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her eyebrows, and all, her ears - her whole face except her mouth and all.

There can be no great literature in America until her writers have learned to trust her implicitly and love her devoutly.

I wanted to fathom her secrets; I wanted her to come to me and say: "I love you," and if not that, if that was senseless insanity, then...well, what was there to care about? Did I know what I wanted? I was like one demented: all I wanted was to be near her, in the halo of her glory, in her radiance, always, for ever, all my life. I knew nothing more!

A wise mother knows: It is her state of consciousness that matters. Her gentleness and clarity command respect. Her love creates security.

Women want everything of a lover. And too often I would sink below the surface. So armies disappear under sand. And there was her fear of her husband, her belief in her honour, my old desire for self-sufficiency, my disappearances, her suspicions of me, my disbelief that she loved me. The paranoia and claustrophobia of hidden love.

What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes

I look up to Gigi Hadid. I love where she's taken herself, I love what brands she's working on. I respect her because I understand... I mean, girls like her open the doors for girls like me. So all I can do is thank her.

Love your country, not for her power or wealth, but for her selflessness and her idealism.

I apologized to her once for spending less time with her, but she blew it off. "You're in love. That makes you actually kind of boring to people who aren't in love. You know, the sane ones.

Love passes by us, robed in meekness; but we flee from her in fear, or hide in the darkness; or else pursue her, to do evil in her name.

One thing I love about Lady Gaga is I feel like her sound is always evolving and changing with her and her phases of life.

For all your talk, you don't know the first thing about love." Tears spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She slipped the chain that held his Super Bowl ring over her head and pressed it into his palm. "I love you, Bobby Tom, and I'll love you till the day I die. But I've never been for sale. I was a free offering all along.

Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn't love me - I felt the wash of her love every day, pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.

He’d never get over her. He knew that without hesitation or doubt. He loved her. As deeply as it was possible to love another person. And God, he wanted her. Every day. In hit life. As much a part of him as he would be of her.

When I'm in love with a woman, seeing her in something cozy makes me not want to let go of her when I'm holding her.

It is said that boys fall in love with their eyes, because they can be initially struck to their very core by a girl's mere physical beauty, while girls tend to fall in love with their ears. The outward handsomeness of the lad notwithstanding, a girl most of all likes to hear words of love everlasting, of how he will be kind and gentle with her and protect her from harm and want to always hold her in the highest respect and esteem.

My mother wanted me to be her wings, to fly as she never quite had the courage to do. I love her for that. I love the fact that she wanted to give birth to her own wings.

Knowing her we will know that we are her divine children in a relationship of complete, unconditionally loving intimacy; we will know that nature is holy in all its sacred particulars because it is everywhere vibrant with her light and her love; we will know that we have come to this earth not, as some patriarchal mystical traditions have implied, to escape it but to embrace it fully, not to 'transcend' it but to arrive here in full presence, gratitude and love.

I love how confident she is, plus we also come from the same hometown, Houston, Texas. Her name is Beyonce Knowles. I love her so, so, so much. I love how hard she works.

Besides, I have a sister who's straight. And I want her to know that I love her and support her.

He looked at her as a man looks at a faded flower he has gathered, with difficulty recognizing in it the beauty for which he picked and ruined it. And in spite of this he felt that then, when his love was stronger, he could, if he had greatly wished it, have torn that love out of his heart; but now when as at that moment it seemed to him he felt no love for her, he knew that what bound him to her could not be broken.

He was there beside her, yet she was far away from him, aone with her outraged love and her ruined life.

I did love her. I've loved her from the first time I saw her.

I love Elektra. I really have a special place in my heart for her. It was very enjoyable for me to discover her and to adapt her for this project and bring myself to this character. So I have a special spot for her.

Bjork, I'd love to do something with her. I'd love to do some sort of crazy orchestral choir thing with her.

To say that she had a book is to say that her solitude did not press upon her; for her love of knowledge had a fertilizing quality and her imagination was strong. There was at this time, however, a want of lightness in her situation, which the arrival of an unexpected visitor did much to dispel.

There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature.

I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn't that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life.