Top 1200 Maybe Love Quotes & Sayings - Page 3

You will throughout your life have people who will tell you that you're not good enough. Maybe they're jealous. Maybe they think you aren't. Maybe they've had a bad day. But ultimately you have to believe in yourself.

You have to be aware that whenever you leave your house, you're probably going to be photographed by someone somewhere. Maybe those pictures will surface. Maybe they won't. Maybe those videos will surface. Maybe they won't. But you have to always be aware that it could be happening.

I love clothes. Maybe I can say I don't love fashion, but I love clothes completely.

I don't know, maybe we're always looking for the right place, maybe it's within reach, but we don't recognize it. Maybe to recognize it, we have to believe in it.

None of my 'clients' - not Eichmann, not Stangl, not Mengele, and not even Hitler or Stalin - was born a criminal. Somebody had to teach them to hate: maybe the society, maybe the politics, maybe just a Jewish prostitute.

Being in love is one of the most powerful experiences anyone can have. I think that's why we have crushes when we're younger. Maybe it's how we get ready for real love.

When we don't hear anything from God we just don't know exactly what He is planning and we come to different conclusions that maybe He has forgotten me, maybe He doesn't hear my prayers, maybe I'm not good enough.

Baby, I have no idea how this will end. Maybe the equator will fall like a hula hoop from the earth's hips and our mouths will freeze mid-kiss on our 80th anniversary or maybe tomorrow my absolute insanity combined with the absolute obstacle course of your communication skills will leave us like a love letter in a landfill. But whatever, however, whenever this ends I want you to know that right now, I love you forever.

This generation has lost the true meaning of romance. There are so many songs that disrespect women. You can’t treat the woman you love as a piece of meat. You should treat your love like a princess. Give her love songs, something with real meaning. Maybe I’m old fashioned but to respect the woman you love should be a priority.

Everyone's scared. So scared they can't sleep sometimes. Or eat. Or keep their weight on." "Then why bother playing?" I asked. It was a whisper, this question. "Because. You love the game. You love the people you play with. You love winning, maybe. You love that one moment when you get it right . . . I dunno. Why do you play?" "Because," I whispered, "it's who I am." Sounds like a good reason to me.

I think The Nightingale is my best, most mature, most moving novel, but maybe that's just because I love these characters. I love the setting.

I be thinking sometimes, maybe I'm just too hard on people. Maybe I want too much. But no, I don't. All my granny did was cook for me, tell me that she love me, gave me hugs every now and then.

Maybe thats because we take criticism best from those we love and those who love us-Ethan

I've never bothered about my color. I never had that thing about being black. If the whole world was like that, maybe there would be more harmony and love. Maybe. I don't have a problem with being black in a white country or being with my people.

I thought I would be at United for a couple of years, maybe three or four, and then go abroad somewhere. But I just fell in love with Manchester United. I fell in love with winning, fell in love with the history of the club and being part of it was something I could never have imagined.

I'd love to do a love story. I've never done a true love story, which would be awesome. But then again, I don't think I've had a true love story, even in my own life. Maybe that's something I want to explore in my own life first.

I think a lot of actors, maybe who have been on a hit show and been lucky enough to get successful, might say 'no' more than I do. And maybe that's good, maybe that's smart. I don't know.

For the hundredth time tonight, I’m back with Lulu, on Jacques’s barge, the improbably named Viola. She’d just toldme the story of double happiness and we were arguing over the meaning. She’d thought it meant the luck of the boy getting the job and the girl. But I’d disagreed. It was the couplet fitting together, the two halves finding each other. It was love. But maybe we were both wrong, and both right. It’s not either or, not luck or love. Not fate or will. Maybe for double happiness, you need both.

And for the rest of the night, he couldn’t quite forget the smell of her perfume. Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle. Or maybe it was neither of those things. Maybe it was just her.

Maybe the desert wisdom of the Dakotas can teach us to love anyway, to love what is dying, in the face of death, and not pretend that things are other than they are. The irony and wonder of all of this is that it is the desert's grimness, its stillness and isolation, that brings us back to love.

Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.

I was fifteen then, too young to fall in-love. Or maybe it is only then, with dew of childhood still in my eyes, that I was capable of such love. I will never know, of course.

Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love. The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit, so when they broke its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one.

I love fashion, but maybe I love it peripherally.

I'm going to Graceland, for reasons I cannot explain. There's some part of me wants to see Graceland. And I may be advised to defend every love, every ending, or maybe there's no obligations now. Maybe I've a reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.

If I had been a different sort of person, maybe less impressionable, less intense, less fearful, less utterly dependent upon the perceptions of others - maybe then I would not have bought the cultural party line that thinness is the be-all and end-all of goals. Maybe if my family had not been in utter chaos most of the time, maybe if my parents were a little better at dealing with their own lives maybe if I'd gotten help sooner, or if I'd gotten different help, maybe if I didn't so fiercely cherish my secret, or if I were not such a good liar, or were not quite so empty inside... maybe.

I love watching people, guessing what they are going to do next. I'm no Derren Brown, but I love that people stuff. Maybe that's why I'm an actor.

Love is what's left when being in love is gone, okay? It's when you care about someone and you hope they're happy, but you're not under any illusions about them. Maybe that kind of love is not exciting and passionate and all those things that fade with time. All those things that you're so keen on. But in the end it's the only kind of love that really matters.

Maybe that's the foundation of my book: how do we come to terms with the death of someone we love when it is impossible to come to terms with such a profound loss? The path I found where I could even ask that question, or maybe advance it beyond what I'd attempted in A Year and a Day, was by straddling the line: this is fiction and memoir, it is true and it isn't.

You might believe that it's only for their own good, but how does it feel when you try to manipulate the people you love? Are you teaching them that your love is conditional? Maybe through inquiry we can find another way.

We are seeing at the Republican National Committee a phenomenon that is worth noting this week; maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe Wednesday, we will have a million first time donors since the president took office.

Maybe—just maybe—Sadie had my best interests at heart. (I just caught her making faces at me, so maybe not.)

I always thought my questions were wrong questions because no one else asked them. Maybe no one thought of them. Maybe darkness got there first. Maybe I am the first light touching a gulf of ignorance... Maybe my questions matter.

Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.

I'd like to actually work with a lot of other people, and whether it's someone who is completely unknown who I love and think is a talent, maybe I'll work with them, or, like, maybe I'll work with some of the biggest pop stars and write music for them.

We remember nothing. Maybe for a year or two. Maybe most of a life, if we live. Maybe. But then we will die, and who will ever understand any of this? And maybe we remember nothing most of all when we put our hands on our hearts and carry on about not forgetting.

I'm more eclectic.Maybe I'm minimalist in the respect that I love black...black for the winter, white for the summer, you know? But I love artisanal things.

I know right now she has no idea who I am, but I'd like to collaborate with Enya one day. Of course I'd love to work with Jay-Z, maybe even Phil Collins. I love his voice.

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with the seven-layer dip...And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game." Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing Soprano for a week.

I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I'll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky.

If you've tried everything possible to get an outcome, and it just hasn't worked out as planned, stop trying so hard. Relax. Maybe the timing's not right. Maybe it wasn't in your best interests. Maybe while one door seems to be closing, another is opening.

you've got to burn straight up and down and then maybe sidewise for a while and have your guts scrambled by a bully and the demonic ladies, you've got to run along the edge of madness teetering, you've got to starve like a winter alleycat, you've go to live with the imbecility of at least a dozen cities, then maybe maybe maybe you might know where you are for a tiny blinking moment.

I need to feel as if everything is clean and in its proper place before I can even attempt to write one word. At least, that's what I tell myself. I make the bed, I put away the dishes, maybe I dust, maybe I do the laundry, maybe I go to the post office.

If you fall in love based on zero hours spent with me? That's maybe something to be aware of. That will fade fast. You can't be in love with a google search.

Feelings such as loneliness, longing or love are sometimes hard to put into words; maybe that's why we all love music, because it resonates with something we can't share.

Why do I beat a lot of people? Because I love it so much, that’s why. Everything about Jiu Jitsu, I love it – the school, the mat, the ring. I always believe that. Maybe I am not better than my opponent, but I know for sure I love my training more.

If given a chance, I would love to baby-sit my friend's children as I love kids and maybe organize a small picnic for them. But due to my busy schedule it doesn't happen often.

Lesbian?” Payton turned around and saw J.D. standing there. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she was basking in the glow of their successful pitch to Gibson’s. Maybe it was her promise to Laney to be the “New Payton,” or maybe it was a combination of all those things. But Payton actually found herself smiling at J.D. It’s just an excuse, the lesbian thing,” she said.

If I jumped into the cliché, everybody will have seen it before. If I stick to my ignorance a little bit, maybe, maybe it will turn out different. Or maybe a slightly new aspect to a comic book villain.

It's a bit of the very last verse from Paradiso- Dante's Paradise. 'My will and my desire were turned by love, the love that moves the sun and the other stars.' Dante was trying to explain faith, I thnk, as an overpowering love, and maybe it's blasphemous, but that's how I think of the way that I love you. You came into my life and suddenly I had one truth to hold on to- that I loved you, and you loved me.

Maybe further down the road in my career, in a couple of years when I'm maybe not that fast any more around the court, then maybe it would be good to come to the net a little bit more often

What is love? Sometimes it's just letting yourself be who and what you are, and letting the person you're supposed to love be who and what he is too. Or maybe what and who they are.

People in California seem to age at a different rate than the rest of the country. Maybe it's the passion for diet and exercise, maybe the popularity of cosmetic surgery. Or maybe we're afflicted with such a horror of aging that we've halted the process psychically.

Seventy-two virgins - does that make sense to anyone? And it's an ancient religion, maybe it was misinterpreted? Maybe it's not 72 virgins, maybe it's a 7-foot-2 Persian.

I love fast cars, loud guns and classic rock 'n' roll, but I'd never do any of it in flats. I love me a nice, big uncomfortable pair of heels and some big hair! Maybe it's a Southern thing, but I love dressing up. It's everything I can do not to leave the house in a goddamn prom dress every day.

A great love is a lot like a good memory. When it's there, and you know it's there, but its just out of your reach, it can be all that you think about. And you can focus on it, and try to force it. But the more that you do, the more you seem to push it away. But if you're patient, and hold still...Maybe. Just maybe, it'll come to you.

In luggage claim at the Minneapolis airport, the guy came up to me and said, "Maybe you're wrong, maybe stories do matter." I wrote that on a scrap of paper and put it above my desk. That was the thing that pushed me through to the end of telling Despereaux, that comment, "Maybe they do...maybe stories matter."

I'm sort of a carb-oholic. I love pasta, and I know it's really simple, but I love pasta with olive oil and crushed red pepper and maybe some Parmesan. I don't really eat cheese anymore, but that would be my favorite. I love a tri colore salad - it's my favorite.

Because you think an explosion has taken place and you're looking at the shards and you say, 'Well, can we put this back together?' And by God, maybe you can put it back together. And maybe it won't be the same, but maybe it will be different, and maybe it can even be better in a different way.

Why should a deserter take the trouble to light Rutupiae Beacon?” Aquila demanded, and his voice sounded rough in is own ears. “Maybe in farewell, maybe in defiance. Maybe to hold back the dark for one more night.