Literary Love Quotes
The best sayings about Literary Love that you can share on Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook and other social networks!
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We loved with a love that was more than love.
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To Grandma: Once upon a time, there was a boy who flew.
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You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.
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You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. -Mr. Darcy
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Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides.
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Love is not breathlessness; It is not excitement; It is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love”, which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
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You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.
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His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
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We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness — and call it love — true love.
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Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.
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For the Tintin books were my emotional universe. To read them felt quite simply like being loved: in advance and by an entire world of pure possibility, my future. But to write to the author was to reach out for the lover. Even today, the power of reading one remains visceral: each book acts as a form of transportation, not just to the emotional landscape of this first literary love affair but to very specific memories.
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To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.
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Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
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You and I, it's as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.
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Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
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If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.
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If Carl Hiaasen and Donald Westlake had a literary love child, he would be Timothy Hallinan.
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Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken again. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.
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Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
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I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
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In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
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When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.
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As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
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He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.
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So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star.
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It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.
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You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell. What I mean is that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me.
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I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.
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